-NRLF 


B    M    IDE    7fi3 


MI  5KANV 

OF  Till'. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


/tA 
Accessions  No.       /          •"   Class  No. 


THE 


SHADOW  OF  DESIRE. 


IRENE    OSGOOD. 


PUBLISHED   BY 

THE  CLEVELAND  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 
No.   19  UNION  SQUARE, 

NEW     YORK. 

1893. 


Copyright,  1893,  by 

THE  CLEVELAND  PUBLISH:?™  COMPAKT,, 

19  Union  Square, 

New  York. 

(All  rights  reserved.) 


"  And  yet,  I  swear,  it  angers  me  to  see 
How  this  fool  passion  gulls  men  potently; 
Being,  in  truth,  but  a  diseased  unrest, 
And  an  unnatural  overheat  at  best. 
How  they  are  full  of  languor  and  distress 
Not  having  it;  which  when  they  do  possess, 
They  straightway  are  burnt  up  with  fume  and  care, 
And  spend  their  lives  in  posting  here  and  there 
Where  this  plague  drives  them;  and  have  little  ease, 
Are  furious  with  themselves,  and  hard  to  please." 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD, 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DESIRE 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  Gone  !    Wholly  gone !    How  cold  and  dark, 

A  cheerless  world  of  hope  bereft, 
The  beacon  quenched,  and  not  a  spark, 
In  all  the  dull  gray  ashes  left ! 

No  more,  no  more  a  living  part 

In  life's  contending  maze  to  own; 
Dead  to  its  kind,  an  empty  heart 

Feeds  on  itself ,  alone  !  alone!1' 

G.  J.  WHYTE-MEI/VILLE. 

So  he  was  dead.  Ruth  Parker  shivered  and 
drew  her  crape  closer  about  her  as  the  pano 
rama  of  her  life  revolved. 

Just  a  year  ago  she  had  gone  away  in  the 
night  with  only  her  maid,  a  young  negress, 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DEBIRK. 

and  married  Wythe  Parker,  a  tall,  handsome 
man,  of  twice  her  years ;  she  was  only  seven 
teen  then.  How  frightened  she  was  after  the 
ceremony ;  but  he  tried  to  comfort  her.  What 
ideal  days  they  passed  traveling!  For  only 
one  cause  was  her  happiness  overcast :  when 
as  time  went  on,  she  still  did  not  hear  from 
her  mother,  sisters,  or  brothers,  her  heart  be 
gan  to  grow  heavy. 

"  They  will  never  forgive  me,"  she  said. 
Then  Wythe  Parker  would  laugh,  and  cheer 
her  up  again. 

Through  many  foreign  lands  they  roamed. 
Slowly  he  grew  to  neglect  her,  as  old,  bad 
habits  returned.  Often  she  would  grow  faint 
with  homesickness,  while  she  waited  for  her 
husband's  return  until  daybreak,  when  he 
would  rush  in,  stupid  with  wine.  One  night 
he  came  back,  looking  tired  and  troubled. 
"  We  must  return  to-morrow  to  the  States," 
he  said,  huskily ;  "  the  tables  are  too  much  for 
me.''  They  were  then  at  Monte  Carlo.  After 
that  the  ocean  voyage;  the  long  journey 
south,  and  the  rest  in  New  Orleans  with  his 
aunt,  a  maiden  lady,  whose  gentle  soul  was 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DEBIRE. 


filled  with  love  for  her  dead  brother's  child. 
Wythe  Parker  returned  her  love  by  wild 
extravagances.  One  night  a  report  reached 
her  that  he  was  killed  in  a  drunken  brawl 
in  a  gambling  den.  The  news  shocked  the 
poor  lady  so  severely  that  she  survived  only 
a  few  hours.  When  her  will  was  read  it  was 
found  that  she  had  bequeathed  all  her  for 
tune,  consisting  of  cotton  and  sugar  planta 
tions,  to  her  nephew,  Wythe  Parker.  He 
recovered  from  the  wounds  received  that  night, 
but  his  disgrace  was  so  great  that  he  and  his 
wife  had  to  flee  New  Orleans.  Fate  over 
took  him  at  Memphis,  and  there  he  died, 
a  victim  to  yellow  fever. 

Euth  Parker  felt  as  if  God  had  forsaken 
the  town  and  all  the  poor  souls  there.  She 
could  never  forget  the  sullen  boom  of  the  can 
non  which  was  fired  regularly  to  purify  the  air 
of  the  streets,  and  the  bonfires  which  burned 
before  each  fever-stricken  house,  to  indicate 
contagion ;  and  then  the  bell  of  the  death-cart, 
and  the  monotonous  cry  of  the  man  :  "  Bring 
out  your  dead!"  to  be  driven  off  and  be 
thrown  in  a  ditch  all  together,  before  they 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IRE. 

were  cold.  People  died  so  fast  that  it  was 
hard  work  to  bury  them  at  all.  She  would 
never  forget  the  tramp  of  the  men,  as  they 
carried  her  husband's  body  away  to  be  cast 
in  the  trench  with  the  others,  while  she  lay 
burning  and  tossing  with  fever.  Ah,  God ! 
it  was  horrible!  And  she  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  groaned.  After  she  had 
recovered,  she  telegraphed  to  her  mother,  Mrs. 
Milson,  in  Virginia;  and  the  answer  was: 
"  Keturn  at  once,  my  child."  And  now  she 
was  going  home.  She  looked  out  of  the 
window  of  the  rumbling  old  carriage,  with 
listless  interest  in  her  big,  gray  eyes,  that 
were  set  in  the  purple  shadows  which  grief 
lends.  Her  brown  hair,  under  the  little  black 
bonnet,  waved  away  from  the  1)road,  serious 
forehead,  and  lay  in  fluffy  rings  of  russet  about 
the  blue- veined  temples.  As  they  passed  the 
old,  familiar  scenes,  she  trembled,  and  drew 
her  veil  closer  about  her.  How  different,  alas ! 
was  her  return  from  her  going  away.  Some 
little  negroes  were  picking  basketfuls  of  corn- 
ears,  tearing  them  from  the  tall  stalks.  The 
sun  was  bright  upon  them,  and  they  laughed 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

aloud,  for  they  were  happy.  Tears  rolled 
slowly  down  the  proud  face,  and  the  tender 
mouth  quivered  piteously.  She  shrank  closer 
in  the  corner,  for  she  did  not  want  her  maid 
to  witness  her  distress  ;  but  the  girl,  a  bacon- 
colored  negress,  who  had  waited  on  her  young 
mistress  ever  since  they  were  children  to 
gether,  and  quite  unconscious  of  race  or  class 
distinctions,  was  too  busy  noting  the  home 
scenes  as  they  whirled  along  to  observe  her 
lady's  tears.  Poor  Martha  had  been  wofully 
homesick  during  the  journeys  of  the  past  year, 
though  she  had  suffered  uncomplainingly,  and 
consoled  herself  by  dreaming  of  "  the  ole  folks 
at  home."  They  were  passing  through  the 
big  gate  where  the  ivy  tree  grew. 

"  l)o  you  remember,  Martha,  how  we  used 
to  sit  up  in  the  boughs  of  that  old  tree,  while 
I  read  you  Hans  Andersen's  stories  ?"  asked 
Kuth  Parker. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Mis'  Rufe,  and  I  nebber  seen 
de  like  since  or  afore.  De  way  dat  tree  growed 
into  a  sofey,  wid  de  leaves  and  branches  hidin' 
and  a-screenin'  it  from  the  sun  and  de  out 
siders  !" 


10  THE     SHADOW     OP     DE8IBE. 

They  both  relapsed  into  silence  as  the  trap 
rolled  up  the  long  avenue,  where  wonderful 
cherry-trees  grew  on  either  side — all  in  fruit 
now.  Down  at  the  foot  of  the  fields,  the 
river  gleamed  in  the  sunshine,  and  beyond 
stretched  the  glorious  Chesapeake  Bay.  At 
last  they  came  in  sight  of  the  old  house,  stand 
ing  fair  and  kindly  in  the  flower-laden  garden, 
with  its  doors  wide  open  in  welcome,  like  a 
tried  and  true  friend,  with  open  arms  to  one 
who  is  aweary. 

It  was  a  long,  two-storied  brick  house,  with 
old-fashioned  green  blinds,  and  wide  piazzas, 
where  twined  honeysuckle,  yellow  and  white 
jasmine  flowers,  Virginia  creepers  and  climb 
ing  roses.  How  tenderly  they  coiled  round 
one  another,  and  with  what  sweet  capricious- 
ness  they  tumbled  over  one  another  about  the 
pillars  and  lattices.  Great  sprays  and  wreaths 
of  roses  were  swinging  from  the  corners  in 
the  breeze.  On  the  steps  of  the  porch,  Betty 
Milson,  Kuth's  eldest  sister,  and  her  two  small 
brothers,  stood  to  receive  her.  As  she  saw 
her  sister's  sweet  face,  pale  with  the  happiness 
of  seeing  her  again,  a  lump  came  in  her  throat, 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  11 

and  she  laughed  and  wept  hysterically,  for  it 
was  so  good  to  be  at  home. 

"  Mother  is  waiting  for  you  up  in  her  room, 
dear,"  said  Betty,  leading  her  up-stairs. 

Mrs.  Milson  was  one  of  those  highly  strung 
little  women  who  retire  to  their  room  with 
nervous  headache  on  the  slightest  provocation, 
and  had  been  seized  with  her  usual  attack 
when  she  received  Ruth's  telegram.  Ruth  was 
shocked  to  see  how  thin  and  pale  her  mother 
had  grown  ;  and  she  thought :  "  It  is  all  my 
fault." 

"I  have  told  them  to  prepare  your  old 
room  for  you,  my  child ;  and  I  hope  you — 
you  will  soon  forget — and  be  your  bright  self, 
my  baby,  again." 

Mrs.  Milson  smoothed  and  caressed  the 
girl's  soft  hair  as  she  was  talking,  and  thought 
with  a  bitter  sigh  of  the  plans  she  had  made 
for  the  future,  and  how  they  had  been  spoiled. 
She  had  not  been  able  to  forgive  her  for  a  long 
time;  but  after  all  a  mother's  heart,  warm, 
and  loving,  and  true  to  infallible  human  in 
stincts,  had  prevailed  at  last. 

"  Where  is  Mabel  ?"  inquired  Ruth.     Mabel 


12  THE     SHADOW     OF     DEBIRE. 

was  the  youngest  girl,  a  clever,  dark  child, 
fond  of  art  and  music. 

"  She  is  at  school  in  Winchester ;  we  expect 
her  home  for  the  holidays.  Betty,  take  your 
sister  up  to  her  room.  We  will  have  tea  pres 
ently  out  in  the  garden;  but  don't  fatigue 
yourself  by  coming  down,  unless  you  wish,  my 
dear." 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  miss  the  garden,  nor  the 
tea,  for  worlds,  dear  mother,5'  answered  Ruth, 
smiling  back  over  her  shoulder,  as  she  went 
out  of  the  door. 

In  her  room  she  found  everything  almost  as 
she  had  left  it  a  year  ago.  How  large,  and 
cool,  and  simple  it  looked,  with  the  gray  linen 
drugget  on  the  polished  floor,  the  large,  white 
bed,  and  the  windows  and  furniture  covered 
and  hung  with  white  muslin.  Even  the  por 
trait  of  her  father,  who  had  died  when  she 
was  a  child,  smiled  back  at  her  from  the  easel 
on  her  dressing  table.  What  was  that  faint, 
delicious  perfume  that  pervaded  the  place, 
and  made  her  senses  swim  with  dreamy 
memories?  "Ah,  how  lovely!"  And  she 
buried  her  face  with  a  low,  glad  laugh,  in  a 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  13 

bowl  of  white  jasmine  flowers,  which  stood  on 
a  table  near,  placed  there,  no  doubt,  by  Betty. 
Close  to  them  she  found  her  favorite  books. 
"Yes,  just  as  I  left  them!"  she  murmured. 
She  remembered  the  handkerchief  she  had 
left  in  "  Bleak  House,"  as  a  marker,  and 
opened  the  book  where  the  handkerchief  was 
yet  lying.  It  was  at  the  part  where  the  officer 
tells  poor  Joe  to  "  move  on,''  ,and  the  little 
street  sweeper  answers  wearily:  "Fee  allus 
a-movin'  on,"  as  he  drags  himself  away. 

"  I  seem  to  be  allus  a-movin'  on,  too,  Joe," 
she  whispered  chokingly,  as  she  closed  the 
book. 

She  changed  her  gown  for  a  cool,  black 
grenadine,  and  fastened  a  spray  of  the  jasmine 
at  her  belt,  before  she  went  down  to  the  garden. 
It  had  been  his  favorite  flower,  for  the  dead 
man  held  his  power  in  the  girl's  heart  yet. 

What  a  slender,  beautiful  creature  she  was, 
with  her  long,  dainty  hands  and  graceful  out 
lines.  Some  one  had  told  her  once  that  such 
strong,  tapering  fingers  were  only  given  to 
violinists. 

Betty  had  made  her  mother  quite  comfort- 


14  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

able  in  an  invalid  chair,  and  was  pouring  out 
tea  when  Ruth  joined  them.  The  boys  were 
giving  Carlos — a  fine  Spanish  pointer — cakes, 
which  he  bravely  swallowed,  because  he  did 
not  wish  to  hurt  their  feelings,  although  he 
detested  sweets ;  and  besides,  Carlos  was  quite 
a  diplomat,  and  knew  he  was  dependent  on 
them  for  long  rambles  and  mysterious  hunts, 
u  which  mother  must  not  know  about,"  cau 
tioned  Carroll,  the  eldest,  with  the  face  of  a 
girl  and  the  heart  of  a  woman  (brave  and 
noble  natures  are  always  soft  and  tender). 

Mrs.  Milson  stirred  her  tea  slowly,  and 
talked  to  Ruth  of  many  things.  "  After  you 
have  rested  awhile,"  she  continued,  "I  think  it 
would  be  pleasant  to  go  abroad  for  the  autumn. 
I  can  leave  the  children  at  school ;  and  Betty, 
you,  and  I  can  spend  a  few  delightful  months 
on  the  Continent  and  in  England.  I'm  so 
tired  of  staying  at  home." 

Mrs.  Milson  looked  at  her  daughters  for  ap 
proval,  as  she  went  on  telling  them  her  plans. 
She  was  one  of  those  restless  women  who 
never  seem  happy  unless  they  are  roaming 
about  from  one  fashionable  resort  to  another. 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  15 

"But,  mother,  we  have  only  been  home 
a  few  weeks;  surely  you  are  not  bored  so 
soon !"  exclaimed  Betty,  glancing  anxiously  at 
Kuth,  who  cried  out  pleadingly : 

"Ah,  mother,  don't  go  away!  It  is  per 
fectly  ideal  here  in  this  "  old-home  "  world  of 
ours,  with  its  flowers,  and  woods,  and  the 
river.  I  should  like  to  vegetate  here,  where 
one  can  die  in  peace.  It  is  wretched  business, 
tramping  around  the  globe  forever." 

Mrs.  Milson  smiles  at  such  primitive  senti 
ments,  and  remains  firm.  She  knows  and  fears 
the  monotony  of  a  quiet  life.  She  feels  that 
the  demon  of  unrest,  which  has  pursued  her 
all  her  life,  is  urging  her  to  go  somewhere — 
anywhere — so  she  can  get  away  from  the  stale, 
dull  plantation,  the  roses,  and  the  tiresome 
gleam  of  the  waves  out  there.  But  above  all, 
she  has  her  schemes.  Euth  is  her  only  beauti 
ful  child ;  and  she  gazes  dotingly  on  the  sad, 
Madonna  face.  Her  blood  gives  a  little  exul 
tant  leap,  as  she  realizes  that  it  is  not  too  late 
yet  to  consummate  her  ambitions.  She  smiles 
to  herself,  and  absently  eats  the  heart  out  of 
a  sweet  moss  rose  that  Kuth  has  just  picked 


16  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

for  her ;  and  watches  the  willowy  form  of  the 
girl  disappear  down  the  long  paths,  followed 
by  Carlos,  who  seems  immensely  glad  to  see 
her.  What  welcome  is  so  spontaneous  as  a 
dogs? 

Ruth  walked  on  the  terrace  at  the  end  of  the 
flower  garden.  She  had  found  it  a  marvelous 
playground  when  she  was  a  child,  and  would 
romp  about  through  the  fields  and  woods,  and 
paddle  barefooted  in  the  creeks,  and  row  on  the 
river  with  her  friend  and  chum,  Jack  Carey. 

There  was  a  stone  culvert,  or  ditch,  running 
along  the  sides  of  the  terrace,  with  here  and 
there  footbridges  and  steps,  that  were  slippery 
with  green  moss.  Old-fashioned  roses  bloomed 
in  wild  luxuriance  on  the  sunny  side,  and 
great  fig  trees  flourished  there.  Ruth  turned 
cold  when  she  remembered  how  she  had  mis 
taken  the  head  of  a  green  tree-snake  for  a  fig 
one  morning,  and  had  tried  to  pick  it,  much  to 
his  snakeship's  astonishment. 

In  the  culvert  they  bred  terrapin,  and  Ruth 
used  to  watch  the  impudent  little  frogs  taking 
a  ride  on  their  diamonded  backs,  as  they  swam 
down  to  the  stream,  which  wandered  out 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  17 

through  the  flags  and  water-plants  to  the  river 
below  the  fields.  It  was  a  paradise  all  about 
there  for  snakes  of  many  sorts ;  but  somehow 
they  had  never  hurt  the  children.  Big  yel 
low  and  brown  water  moccasins  would  glide 
in  and  out  the  lilies  and  rushes,  to  sun  them 
selves  on  the  warm,  sedgy  banks.  Ruth  had 
a  cunning  way  of  catching  the  young  mocca 
sins  and  putting  them  in  bottles  of  water,  so 
she  would  watch  their  eyes  gleam  to  better 
advantage ;  but  she  would  always  liberate 
them,  for  she  had  a  strange  sympathy  with 
them. 

On  the  terrace  there  was  a  wonderful  old 
well,  very  deep,  and  made  roughly  of  stones 
and  bricks.  The  negroes  said  that  it  was  two 
hundred  years  old,  or  more.  It  was  a  fearful 
place  for  nervous  people,  because  so  many 
snakes  thrived  there.  They  would  dart  out 
their  pretty  little  heads  from  the  rocky 
crevices  on  the  sides,  and  play  about  in  the 
water  far  below.  Mrs.  Milson  had  often 
expressed  a  desire  to  fill  the  well  up,  but 
Ruth  would  entreat  her  not  to  do  so.  She 
had  an  uncanny  habit  of  stealing  there,  and 


18  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

lying  flat  on  the  damp  grass  at  the  edge  of  the 
well,  and  peering  down  into  its  shadows ;  their 
sinuous  movements  charmed  her.  It  was  a 
famous  garden  for  an  imaginative  girl  to  grow 
up  in.  Perhaps  Ruth  had  assimilated  some 
of  her  grace  from  the  wild  things  and  the 
snakes. 

"  Good-night,  Mis'  Eufe ;  hopes  yer  sleeps 
well ! "  said  Martha,  giving  the  finishing 
touches  to  the  bed,  and  arranging  a  night 
light  and  matches  on  a  side  table.  Then  she 
went  out  of  the  room,  leaving  Ruth  Parker 
standing  in  her  long  night-gown  at  the  open 
window,  gazing  out  into  the  silver  night.  Up 
in  the  sky  the  moon  rode,  throwing  her  golden 
smile  over  the  thousands  of  sleepy  flowers 
which  exhaled  their  drowsy  perfume.  Some 
where  in  the  trees  a  mocking  bird  was  sing 
ing,  clearly  and  plaintively.  It  must  have 
fancied  that  the  day  had  come,  the  moonshine 
was  so  bright. 

Ruth  leaned  far  out  on  the  window-sill,  to 
drink  in  all  the  beauty  of  the  night.  A  long 
garland  swaying  in  the  wind  beat  gently 
against  her  hot  cheeks.  It  was  full  of  dew 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  19 

and  heavy  with  sweetness.  "  Oh,  you  beauti 
ful  jasmine  flower — love  me — love  me,  for  my 
heart  is  broken ! "  she  sobbed,  as  she  caught 
at  the  starry  blooms  and  kissed  them. 

Far  into  the  night  the  bird  sang  on,  while 
Ruth  dreamed  of  days  that  had  flown.  "  But 
it's  good  to  be  at  home,  my  lovely  jasmine 
flower — it's  good  to  be  at  home !  "  was  the 
refrain  of  her  thoughts  before  they  passed 
into  dreams. 

"  And  the  jasmine  flower  in  her  fair  young  breast, 
O,  the  faint,  sweet  smell  of  that  jasmine  flower  !  " 

OWEN  MEREDITH. 


CHAPTEK    IT. 

"  I  looked  at  thee,  and  lo  !  from  face  to  feet, 
I  saw  my  tyrant,  and  I  felt  the  beat 
Of  my  quick  pulse." 

ERIC  MACKAY. 

THEY  were  lounging  in  a  boat,  Ruth  and 
Jack  Carey,  out  on  the  river  near  the  fields. 
The  lines  lay  idle  in  the  water  while  the  fish 
ran  off  with  the  bait.  The  waves  softly  rocked 
to  and  fro  as  they  talked. 

She  had  been  at  home  a  week  now,  and 
friends  had  called  for  miles  around  to  welcome 
her.  She  was  beginning  to  be  stronger  ;  and 
it  all  seemed  so  natural ;  it  was  pleasant  to 
be  with  Jack  Carey  fishing,  just  as  they  had 
done  a  hundred  times  before.  His  kind  eyes 
smiled  at  her,  while  he  told  her  of  his  plans 
and  hopes  for  the  future.  They  had  been  the 
dearest  of  friends,  she  and  this  boy,  all  their 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  21 

lives.  He  had  called  her  "  his  little  wife  "  in 
the  halcyon  days ;  and  somehow  she  knew  in 
stinctively  that  his  love  had  not  gone  away 
from  her,  and  that  it  had  grown  as  the  boy  had 
grown. 

She  listened  lazily  as  he  told  her  of  his  pro 
motion  in  the  law  firm  that  he  had  entered  ;  in 
four  years — he  had  every  reason  to  believe 
that — he  would  be  taken  in  as  a  junior  part 
ner.  She  was  very  glad,  for  she  had  always 
been  fond  of  him,  although  he  was  younger 
than  herself ;  she  passively  accepted  his  ado 
ration  as  a  matter  of  course.  How  strong  and 
brown  he  had  grown  in  the  last  year !  The 
sun  went  down,  turning  their  world  into  a  land 
of  crimson  glory ;  lighting  up  the  girl's  face 
and  making  it  seem  like  a  fair  saint's.  Jack 
Carey  noticed  that  the  face  had  grown  colder, 
and  that  a  new  strange  light  was  in  her  eyes 
which  had  not  shone  there  a  year  before  ;  and 
he  blamed  the  dead  man  for  the  transforma 
tion.  The  air  was  becoming  chilly,  so  he  drew 
up  the  anchor  and  quietly  pulled  ashore.  Ruth 
was  so  absent-minded  that  she  nearly  upset  the 
boat  as  she  steered  to  the  rocks  by  the  side 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 


of  the  landing.  She  was  thinking  with  sad 
regret  that  in  a  few  days  she  would  be  off  to 
Europe,  instead  of  drifting  along  adored  by 
this  boy  with  his  soul  in  his  eyes,  while  he 
demanded  nothing — absolutely  nothing;  and 
she  was  grateful,  for  she  was  tired.  Her  great 
est  happiness  was  in  her  dreams  at  night,  when 
her  dead  came  back,  warm  and1  loving,  and 
pressed  his  spirit-face  to  hers,  while  outside  the 
shadows  deepened  under  the  sweet  rose  bushes, 
and  the  bird  sang  in  the  jasmine. 

Jack  Carey  ran  the  boat  in,  and  made  her  fast 
in  the  shelter.  They  walked  along  the  shore, 
then  up  through  the  fields  over  the  bridge,  and 
on  up  through  the  garden  to  the  house.  In 
the  trees,  soft  twitterings  from  hundreds  of 
birds  filled  the  twilight.  They  seemed  to  be 
talking  to  each  other  in  their  sleep,  with  their 
heads  tucked  under  their  ruffled  wings. 

Jack  Carey's  profile  was  silhouetted  against 
the  saffron  atmosphere.  Ruth  wondered,  and 
thought  how  strange  it  was  that  she  could 
never  love  the  boy.  How  much  better  it 
would  have  been  otherwise!  Regrets  —  of 
what  avail  are  they?  Regrets  are  like  the 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  23 

vultures  in  India  which  hover  over  the  Tower 
of  Silence  o±  the  Parsees,  inevitable  and  grue 
some. 

Up  at  the  house  the  Dunston  girls  and 
their  father,  the  Colonel,  were  just  taking 
leave.  They  had  ridden  over  ten  miles,  and 
were  greatly  disappointed  not  to  find  Ruth 
at  home.j^  Mrs.  Milson  had  coaxed  them  to 
remain  for  awhile  to  rest,  so  they  had  been  re 
warded  by  Ruth's  return.  She  and  the  Dun 
ston  girls  had  been  at  school  together  at 
Winchester.  When  Ruth  ran  off  with  Wythe 
Parker,  all  the  girls  gossiped  fearfully,  with 
the  exception  of  Mildred  Dunston,  a  tall  gypsy- 
faced  girl,  who  was  Ruth's  best  pal  at  school. 
Mildred  had  wept  many  a  secret  tear  over 
Ruth's  fate,  and  felt  a  joyous  and  guilty  relief 
when  she  heard  of  her  widowhood,  and  her 
safe  arrival  home.  The  girls  rushed  into  each 
other's  arms  with  queer  little  screams  of  de 
light  ;  and  after  asking  each  other  dozens  of 
questions,  which  neither  waited  to  hear  an 
swered,  they  quieted  down  to  rational  conver 
sation.  It  was  settled  with  Colonel  Dunston 
to  leave  Mildred  to  stay  with  Ruth  for  a  few 


24  THE     SHADOW     OP     DEBIBE. 

days,  and  for  him  to  send  on  a  box  of  clothing 
the  next  morning.  "  But  I  can't,  dearie  !  I 
have  nothing  with  me  but  the  habit  I  have 
on,"  Mildred  had  ejaculated.  "  Oh,  don't 
bother !  We  can  fix  you  up  beautifully," 
answered  Ruth.  "  We'll  raid  Betty's  ward 
robe  for  a  gown,  and  you  can  wear  rny  slip 
pers,  I  remember.''  So  it  was  all  arranged. 
Why  is  it  that  girls  are  fascinated  by  such 
Bohemianisms  ?  Why  do  they  possess  such 
charm  for  them  ?  The  Colonel  and  Kate  Dun- 
ston  cantered  off  over  the  fields  home.  Kate 
was  the  hoyden  of  the  family,  and  took  the 
hedge,  while  her  father  soberly  unlocked  the 
gate  and  walked  his  horse  through  like  a  sen 
sible  man.  He  did  not  approve  of  larking, 
and  only  jumped  when  hounds  were  running. 
Up  in  their  room  that  night  the  girls  talked 
for  hours.  Mildred  had  only  come  out  the  last 
winter  when  she  left  school.  She  was  two 
years  older  than  Euth,  and  was  engaged  to 
marry  an  Englishman,  the  Hon.  Percy  Hoi- 
bourne,  whom  she  had  met  at  her  aunt's 
house  in  Fairfax  County,  where  he  had  been 
shooting  the  season  before.  It  had  all  been 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  26 

settled  before  poor  Mildred  knew  what  she 
should  do.  They  were  to  be  married  at  St. 
George's,  Hanover  Square,  London,  in  March. 
Her  aunt  had  taken  a  house  for  the  London 
season,  and  they  were  going  over  to  Paris  soon 
to  attend  to  her  trousseau,  which  was  to  be 
very  elaborate.  They  would  spend  the  honey 
moon  in  Norway  and  Sweden,  and  then  re 
turn  to  England,  and  go  down  to  Mr.  Hoi- 
bourne's  estate  in  H ,  where  he  had  fine 

shooting.  Mildred  talked  in  a  dry,  hard 
voice,  and  brushed  her  heavy  black  hair  in  a 
jerky,  cruel  fashion,  like  an  automaton ;  all 
the  while  avoiding  Ruth's  pitying  eyes,  for 
she  did  not  want  to  break  down  and  cry ;  not 
now,  she  thought ;  it  was  too  late ;  and  she 
stoutly  steeled  herself  against  all  emotion. 

Ruth's  pity  and  astonishment  grew,  as  the 
girl  went  on  with  her  story. 

She  remembered  how  Mildred  had  loved 
her  cousin,  Will  Dunston.  She  recalled  the 
books  they  used  to  read  together  in  the  long 
holidays.  She  could  see  Mildred  in  fancy 
again,  lying  curled  up  in  a  hammock,  with 
Will  Dunston  stretched  out  on  the  grass  with 


26 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE- 


his  head  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  He 
loved  to  tell  them  of  his  college  sports,  or 
tease  poor  Mildred,  as  was  his  custom.  Euth 
remembered  so  well,  one  day  three  years  ago, 
"Will  Dunston  had  taken  them  both  out  sail 
ing  on  the  beautiful  bay,  and  frightened  them 
by  making  believe  that  he  could  not  manage 
the  boat.  She  had  never  liked  him,  he  had 
such  a  bold  stare  in  his  black  eyes  ;  but  he  had 
to  be  tolerated,  for  was  he  not  Mildred's  lover  ? 
And  she  loved  Mildred  also;  and  girls  are 
very  clannish. 

"  But,  darling,  I— I  thought  "—she  hesitated, 
her  eyes  filling  with  tears ;  "  I  thought  Will  " 
— "Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  you  thought,"  an 
swered  Mildred  passionately;  "but  it's  all 
over  now.  He  does  not  love  me,  and  aunt  ob 
jects  to  our  marriage,  because  we  are  first 
cousins.  My  marriage  with  Mr.  Holbourne 
is  much  more  desirable.  I  shall  be  quite 
haPPJ>  n°  doubt,"  A  hopeless  despair  drooped 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  lower  than  ever.  In 
her  eyes  was  the  gleam  of  burning  tears,  which 
looked  as  though  they  would  never  be  shed. 
A  great  fear  fell  upon  Buth,  as  she  cried, 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE,,  27 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't,  you  shouldn't !  You  don't 
love  that  man,  dear;  you  can't  marry  him! 
Oh,  it  is  horrible !" 

"  I  have  not  only  determined  to  marry  him, 
Ruth,  but  to  be  happy ;  so  there  is  no  more  to 
be  said  about  it." 

"Where  is  "Will  Dunston?"  asked  Euth 
presently. 

"  He  is  in  Washington,  I  believe.  He  sails 
for  England  soon,  and  will  probably  be  there 
for  my  wedding," 

She  tried  to  speak  indifferently,  but  Ruth 
saw  that  it  was  a  desperate  struggle.  Mildred 
stretched  her  long,  lovely  arms  above  her  head, 
and  yawned.  The  pain  and  excitement  of  the 
confidences  had  fatigued  her.  Deep,  dark 
rings  encircled  her  eyes;  Ruth  had  not  ob 
served  them  before.  u  Don't  you  sleep  well, 
dear?"  she  asked. 

"Sleep!"  and  Mildred  laughed  bitterly. 
"  Why,  I  sleep  like  a  stone,  dead  and  heavy, 
without  dreams.  Even  when  I'm  awake,  I 
feel  as  though  I'm  going  through  life  fast 
asleep.  It  is  a  strange,  numb  sensation — but 
a  blissful  one  for  me  now,"  she  said  under  her 


28  THE     SHADOW     OF     DEBIKE. 

breath,  as  she  turned  tenderly  to  Ruth  and 
kissed  her  good-night.  "  You  must  go  to 
bed,  and  to  sleep,  little  one,"  she  continued. 
"  You've  so  many  preparations  to  make  for 
your  departure  in  the  next  few  days,  you 
mustn't  throw  your  beauty  sleep  away."  She 
lit  the  candle  mechanically  and  went  to  her 
room, 

11  Good-night,  Mildred,  dear,"  Euth  echoed, 
as  she  thoughtfully  brushed  and  fastened  up 
her  hair.  She  left  a  penciled  message  for 
Martha  to  call  her  at  eight  in  the  morning, 
as  she  had  many  engagements  for  the  next 
day ;  and  crept  into  bed,  drawing  the  sheets 
close  up  to  her  chin.  She  was  tired,  and  the 
story  of  her  friend  filled  her  with  sadness. 
How  cold  the  linen  was!  She  cuddled  up 
closer ;  but  try  as  she  could,  sleep  would  not 
come.  Every  little  sound  startled  her.  Her 
whole  nervous  body  was  like  an  instrument 
strung  so  tight  it  was  in  danger  of  breaking. 
A  long  ribbon  of  moonlight  lay  across  the 
floor  and  the  coverlet.  Something  ran  dain 
tily  over  the  foot  of  the  bed.  She  started 
up  terrified,  but  to  her  relief  found  that  it 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE, 


was  only  a  tame  mouse,  a  wee  tiny  thing, 
that  she  had  often  fed  with  crumbs  from  her 
morning  roll.  She  lay  down  again,  glad  of 
the  companionship  of  even  a  mouse.  A 
long,  low  sob  rang  out  through  the  night; 
another — and  yet  another.  Some  soul  was  in 
mortal  agony.  Quietly  slipping  out  of  bed, 
she  listened  in  the  darkness,  cold  and  trem- 
blingo 

Some  one  was  talking  and  sobbing  horribly. 
"  Oh,  Heavens !  it's  Mildred  !''  she  whispered, 
going  swiftly  to  the  door  of  her  friend's  bed 
room,  which  communicated  with  her  own.  She 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  not  knowing  whether 
to  go  in,  or  back  to  bed. 

"  Ah,  come  to  me !"  she  heard  Mildred  sob 
out.  "Come  to  me,  my  darling,  my  darling! 
Oh,  God!  just  to  be  in  your  arms,  and  feel 
that  you  love  me,  only  once  again,  Will,  only 
once !  I'm  going  mad.  Come  to  me,  love 
me,  Will!" 

A  cold  terror  came  over  Euth,  as  she  list 
ened  to  the  girl's  agony.  She  knocked  gently 
at  the  door,  but  received  no  answer.  Every 
thing  was  as  quiet  and  still  as  the  grave. 


f  TOT 

' 


.;3  TOT 


30  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

She  turned  the  knob  of  the  door  and 
went  in.  The  moon  lit  up  the  room  well 
enough  for  her  to  see.  Much  to  her  surprise, 
Mildred  was  in  bed,  apparently  fast  asleep. 
She  was  clutching  the  lace  of  her  night-gown, 
and  one  arm  was  thrown  over  her  head,  half 
buried  in  the  thick  tumbled  hair.  She  crept 
close  to  the  bed  and  gazed  anxiously  in  the 
girl's  face.  It  was  wet  with  tears,  and  drawn 
with  pain.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  but  Ruth 
saw  by  the  nervous  twitching  of  the  lids  that 
she  was  not  asleep.  She  turned  sorrowfully, 
and  drew  the  curtains  closer  to  exclude  the 
morning  light,  which  was  faintly  glowing.  She 
felt  an  unseen  presence  in  the  room ;  so  she 
crept  out  as  she  had  come  in,  dreading  to  look 
back  for  fear  of  seeing — she  did  not  dare  to 
whisper  what,  even  to  herself.  Mildred  never 
knew  that  Ruth  had  found  out  that  she  was 
awake.  The  harmless  deception  would  perhaps 
make  her  happier — so  Ruth  assured  herself. 

"Alas  1  for  sorrow  is  all  the  end  of  this. 
Oh,  Bad  kissed  mouth,  how  sorrowful  it  is  1" 

SWINBURNE. 


CHAPTEE     III. 

"  Beauty  like  her's  is  genius." 

ROSKTTI. 

ONE  day  in  early  spring,  a  year  later,  a  man 
was  sitting  at  a  table  by  the  corner  window 
which  overlooks  the  square  at  Delmonico's  in 
New  York.  The  merry  hum  of  conversation 
from  the  people  in  the  room  almost  drowned 
the  noise  of  the  street  traffic  for  him,  as  he 
leisurely  ate  his  lunch,  and  idly  watched  a 
gardener  setting  out  the  beds  of  hyacinths 
and  crocuses  below  the  window-sill,  and  the 
varied  crowd  of  guests  coining  and  going. 

He  was  a  well-built  man,  dark,  with  full  red 
lips,  very  white  teeth,  and  a  heavy  black  mus 
tache,  which  gave  him  rather  a  foreign  appear 
ance.  The  eyes  were  brown  and  keen,  and  the 
hair  near  the  temples  was  thin  and  sprinkled 
with  gray. 


32  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

An  observer  would  at  once  have  pronounced 
him  a  bon  vivant  and  a  sportsman,  from  the 
evidence  of  his  strong  brown  hands  and  square 
shoulders.  He  was  not  really  more  than  five 
feet  ten  in  height,  but  impressed  one  as  being 
much  taller.  This  was  Mr.  Waldo  Bronson, 
a  Baltimorean,  a  famous  club  man,  a  large 
stockholder  in  most  of  the  desirable  things 
afloat,  and  a  friend  of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Hoi- 
bourne,  nee  Dunston. 

Looking  towards  the  door  he  saw  three  peo 
ple  enter.  One  was  Mrs.  Milson,  and  another 
Mrs.  Parker,  a  slender,  lovely  woman  whom 
he  had  met  in  England  a  few  months  before. 
He  had  wondered  then  at  fate's  irony  in 
bestowing  the  lot  of  widowhood  on  such  a 
mere  child.  The  fact  that  she  had  interested 
him  strangely  was  annoying  to  him,  as  he  did 
not  consider  himself  easily  moved.  The  two 
women  were  accompanied  by  Ralph  Dawson, 
a  young  Englishman. 

Every  one  stared  at  the  girl  as  she  ad 
vanced  to  a  little  table  at  the  side ;  and  she 
flushed  with  embarrassment.  Waldo  Bronson 
arose  hastily  and  went  forward  to  greet  the 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  33 

party.  He  was  shaking  with  nervousness  as 
he  smiled  down  in  the  young  girl's  face, 
which  glowed  like  a  blush  rose. 

"How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  again,  Mrs. 
Parker ! "  he  said  almost  solemnly,  in  the 
fervor  of  his  earnestness. 

"  Oh !  you  have  me  to  thank,  Bronson,  for 
your  gladness  "  interpolated  Kalph  Dawson. 
"  I  was  the  lucky  dog  who  persuaded  Mrs. 
Milson  and  her  daughter  to  return.  They 
were  booked  to  cross  soon  anyway,  but  Mrs. 
Parker  assured  me  that  it  was  '  comfy '  to 
have  a  fellow  like  me  around  to  wrap  her 
up  in  her  chair  on  board  ship,  and  fetch  and 
carry  "  rattled  on  Kalph  Dawson. 

"I  presume  you  availed  yourself  of  the 
privilege  of  making  the  ladies  '  comfy ' ' 
answered  Waldo  Bronson  enviously. 

"Well,  rather!'*  was  the  cheery,  provoking 
reply. 

They  all  sat  at  the  table  with  Waldo  Bron 
son.  Ralph  Dawson  wanted  to  get  a  good 
view  of  the  room,  for  he  delighted  in  all  this 
Americanism,  and  enjoyed  many  things  that 
his  conservative  father  would  have  pro- 


34  THE     8HADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

nounced  "  impossible."  As  Euth  Parker 
slipped  her  gloves  off,  her  slender  hands 
looked  fresh  and  lovely,  like  pale  pink  China. 

Waldo  Bronson  noticed  them,  and  was 
pleased  that  they  were  not  of  that  blue 
white  which  most  of  his  fashionable  friends 
affected. 

The  sunlight  that  came  in  at  the  window, 
gliding  daintily  through  the  prosaic  room  as 
though  it  did  not  wish  to  be  contaminated  by 
touching  common  clay,  rested  caressingly  on 
the  nape  of  her  neck,  where  it  could  entangle 
itself  with  the  loose  locks  of  the  curly  hair. 

She  wore  a  deliciously  simple  gray  gown, 
showing  more  of  the  throat  than  was  usual. 

The  white  shine  of  her  skin,  with  its  faint 
rose  odor,  filled  him  with  sensuous  pleasure. 

He  always  associated  her  with  roses,  for  he 
remembered  how  she  had  worn  a  big  bunch 
of  roses  with  a  white  gown  when  he  had  first 
met  her. 

"We  are  to  do  many  of  the  northern 
resorts,  Mr.  Bronson,"  Mrs.  Milson  was  say 
ing  to  him.  "  Next  week  we  shall  stay  with 
the  Greens  at  Lenox." 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  35 

"  And  of  course  you  must  take  in  Newport, 
Long  Island,  and  all  the  other  heavenly  spots 
which  have  been  sealed  by  the  four  hundred,'' 
said  Ealph  Dawson,  with  mock  gravity.  He 
was  rather  a  rebel  against  conventionality,  and 
dubbed  dinners,  dances,  and  all  such  functions 
bores.  His  many  friends  explained  this  eccen 
tricity  by  the  fact  that  he  was  only  in  his  ele 
ment  when  lie  was  bestriding  a  horse,  or  shoot 
ing.  They  were  going  to  hear  Alvary  sing 
"Siegfried,"  so  Mrs.  Milson  hurried  them  off; 
but  not  before  Waldo  Bronson  had  received 
permission  to  call  that  night. 

He  helped  them  into  a  cab,  and  stood  at 
the  restaurant  door  looking  after  them  until 
the  yellow  wheels  rolled  out  of  sight. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  gas  jet  in  the 
hall,  lit  his  cigar,  and  walked  up  Fifth  Ave 
nue  with  a  light,  springy  step,  feeling  twenty 
instead  of  forty.  He  stopped  at  a  florist's 
shop.  He  must  send  her  some  roses — only 
roses  for  her  to-day,  he  thought.  The  man 
held  up  a  bunch  of  glorious  "  Jacqueminots," 
and  then  some  "  American  Beauties ; "  but 
he  put  them  aside. 


36  THE     8HADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

They  were  too  big  and  red  for  his  dainty 
lady,  so  he  ordered  some  delicious  moss 
roses :  how  fair  they  looked,  lying  in  their 
little  nests  of  pale  green  moss !  He  felt  sure 
she  would  like  them,  they  were  dainty,  like 
herself.  A  fever  possessed  him ;  and  he  wan 
dered  into  the  club  and  sat  down  at  the  win 
dow  where  he  could  get  a  good  view  of  the 
Avenue.  Perhaps  they  would  drive  by  on 
their  way  to  the  hotel.  It  was  just  four 
o'clock ;  if  he  hurried  he  might  be  in  time 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  as  she  left  the 
Opera  House :  but  a  crowded  thoroughfare 
delayed  him  ;  the  doors  were  closed  when  he 
arrived,  and  he  turned  back,  bitterly  dis 
appointed. 

The  servant  seemed  to  be  an  eternity  that 
night  in  taking  his  card  up  at  the  hotel  to  Mrs. 
Milson  and  her  daughter ;  but  he  finally  re 
turned  and  led  the  way  to  the  apartment. 
They  were  staying  at  one  of  those  huge 
hotels  uptown,  whose  height  seems  trying  to 
reach  the  stars,  and  where  people  are  known 
as  2918 — or  some  such  bewildering  number, 
and  not  by  their  name. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESTRB.  37 

The  sitting-room  was  cosy  and  half  lighted. 
On  a  table  near  the  fireplace  a  lamp  was  burn 
ing,  and  a  lounge  was  drawn  up  by  the  log  fire 
which  this  child  of  the  South  had  ordered 
immediately  on  her  arrival.  She  detested  the 
coldness  and  stiffness  of  detail  of  an  hotel 
parlor ;  besides,  she  always  liked  wood  fires ; 
they  spoke  to  her  of  many  tender  things,  she 
said,  with  a  far-off  look  in  her  eyes,  as  she 
watched  the  glowing  coals  tumbling  in  a  heap, 
and  the  cheery  flames  licking  the  fire-dogs. 
She  was  wearing  a  clinging  white  crepe  tea- 
gown.  His  blood  gave  a  little  leap  of  intense 
pleasure  when  he  noticed  that  two  or  three  of 
his  moss  roses  were  fastened  in  the  lace  on 
her  breast. 

"  How  nice  it  is  of  you  to  come  such  a  dis 
agreeable  night,"  she  said  rising  languidly 
and  giving  him  one  of  her  tiny  hands,  which 
he  did  not  return  quite  at  once.  "  Mother  has 
gone  to  bed ;  she  hasn't  recovered  yet  from 
the  fatigue  of  the  voyage."  She  smiled  softly 
up  at  him,  and,  bidding  him  sit  near  her  in 
the  large  chair,  adjusted  the  white  silk  shade 
of  the  lamp  to  a  more  comfortable  angle. 


38  THE     8HADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

"  The  Opera  was  divine  to-day  ;  I  enjoyed 
every  moment  of  it "  she  continued.  "  Some 
how  Wagner  always  satisfies  one  when  the 
spirit  is  moody;  and  his  music  is  so  often 
]ike  a  grand  benediction." 

"  1  fancied  you  liked  Italian  music  more," 
he  remarked. 

"  Oh,  it  all  depends  on  how  I  feel ;  woman 
like,  I'm  never  sure  of  myself.  Sometimes 
it's  one,  and  again  another.  I  have  even 
known  myself  to  hate  both."  She  arose 
nervously  and  tucked  up  higher  a  coil  of 
hair  which  was  trying  to  escape.  Then  she 
glided  over  to  the  window  and  looked  out 
into  the  night.  It  had  grown  colder ;  and 
one  of  those  sudden  little  snow  storms  which 
so  often  visit  New  York  in  the  spring  was 
falling.  He  watched  her  every  movement. 
How  like  a  snake  she  was  in  her  slow  grace ! 

She  turned  away  from  watching  the  crowded 
streets  through  the  half-blurred  window  panes 
on  which  the  snow-flakes  were  irregularly 
huddled,  and  walked  over  to  the  fireplace. 
"  What  a  fascinating  life  one  must  live  if  one 
were  a  street  Arab,  or  in  fact  any  sort  of  Arab, 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DE6IBE.  89 

BO  one  could  be  at  liberty  to  wander  at  will 
anywhere,  or  at  any  time.  But  I  suppose," 
she  continued,  reflectively,  "  that  even  Arabs 
are  held  in  bonds  sometimes.'*  The  lace  fell 
away  from  her  arm,  while  she  leaned  on  the 
mantelpiece,  revealing  the  blue  veins  under 
the  fair  skin.  With  one  little  foot  she  nerv 
ously  kicked  the  logs  until  the  sparks  made 
miniature  fireworks  up  the  chimney  in  a  glit 
tering  shower. 

"  I  have  never  seen  you  in  this  mood  before, 
Mrs.  Parker!"  said  Waldo  Bronson  uneasily. 
"  No  ?'*  she  interrogated,  he  fancied  sarcastic 
ally  ;  and  as  she  turned  her  eyes  full  on  his, 
he  observed  a  curious  haunted  look  in  them 
like  that  of  some  wild  thing. 

"Is  it  unusual  to  long  to  be  an  Arab  ?  I 
suppose  it  is.  How  droll !"  she  said  laughingly, 
and  nestled  down  on  the  cushions  of  the  sofa 
with  her  arms  curved  over  her  head.  "  Well !" 
she  went  on  mischievously,  "let  us  suppose 
I'm  a  seagull  to-night.  What  a  glorious  time 
I  would  have  flying  ahead  of  the  storm,  faster, 
faster  than  the  snow,  waves,  or  clouds — with 
only  the  wind  for  company.  I  used  to  watch 


/ 


40  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

the  seagulls  from  the  ship  and  envy  them 
their  flight." 

Waldo  Bronson  became  restless.  He  did  not 
approve  of  uncanny  imaginations,  for  he  did  not 
understand  that  no  matter  how  thoroughly 
some  natures  may  be  modified  by  culture,  yet 
the  spirit  of  some  unknown  power— perhaps  he 
reditary,  or  surviving  from  a  past  existence — 
will  fill  them  with  an  indescribable  desire  to 
do  impossible  things. 

"  I  shouldn't  fancy  being  a  seagull"  he 
said  shivering.  "  Just  fancy  sleeping  on  a 
rough  wave  such  a  night  as  this  !" 

"  It  would  be  rather  damp,  wouldn't  it  ?  '* 
and  she  laughed  a  little  sharp  laugh,  which 
made  him  more  uncomfortable  than  ever. 

"  Why  do  you  complain  of  not  being  free  2 
You  can  go  where  you  please.  You  have 
nothing  to  hold  you,  and  need  only  consult 
your  own  inclinations."  He  was  a  bit  fright 
ened  after  he  had  said  it,  for  she  gave  him  a 
quick,  curious  glance,  and  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders. 

"  Oh,  of  course  that's  what  everyone  says 
to  me.  I  have  learned  not  to  expect  anything 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  41 

but  the  conventional.  I  think  I  should  die 
out  of  pure  astonishment  if  any  of  my  friends 
developed  anything  beyond  mediocrity.  Just 
imagine,"  she  went  on  rapidly,  "  the  engage 
ments  I  must  keep,  simply  because  I'm  sup 
posed  to  be  a  civilized  young  woman,  and  must 
do  as  other  young  women  do  who  are  civilized  ; 
and  because  I  must  be  civilized,  I  have  a  wild 
longing  to  be  a  savage." 

Waldo  Bronson  smiled  and  said :  u  I  can 
see  you  in  fancy,  in  the  privacy  of  your  room, 
with  cold  cream  and  powder  plastered  on  your 
poor,  sunburnt  little  nose." 

She  laughed  merrily  at  the  picture.  u  I'm 
sure  I  would,  after  two  days  only  in  my  savage 
kingdom.''  She  began  to  hum  the  bird  song 
from  li  Siegfried,"  although  her  thoughts  were 
far  away  from  the  poor  imprisoned  soul  in  the 
bird.  A  servant  brought  in  a  card,  from  which 
she  read  aloud  the  name  of  "  Mr.  Ralph  Daw- 
son."  "How  fortunate,  he's  just  in  time  to 
prevent  our  quarrelling  about  my  savage  ten 
dencies"  she  said. 

Waldo  Bronson  leaned  forward  eagerly,  his 
eyes  bright  with  excitement,  saying  in  a  low 


42  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

voice : — "  Ah,  please  say  you  are  gone  away, 
dead,  or  anything  ;  but  don't  let  that  wretched 
boy  come  up  to-night !  You  can  be  undisputed 
queen  of  all  the  savages  on  land  or  sea,  as  far 
as  I'm  concerned,"  he  cried,  "  if  you  will  only 
permit  me  to  be  with  you  ! " 

A  serious  expression  stole  over  her  sweet 
face  as  he  talked.  Turning  to  the  servant  who 
was  waiting  at  the  door,  she  told  him  to  tell 
the  gentleman  that  she  could  not  receive  him 
that  night.  Then  she  turned  to  Waldo  Bron- 
son.  "  I  must  send  you  away,  also,  Mr.  Bron- 
son.  Good-night!  It's  growing  late.  The 
savage  mood  has  passed.  I'm  only  Ruth  now." 
He  took  her  hands  suddenly  and  held  her 
far  away  from  him,  so  as  to  be  able  to  enjoy 
all  the  more  the  beautiful  vision.  "  Only 
Ruth ! "  he  echoed  with  strong  emotion. 
"Why,  you  are  a  woman  made  to  be  wor 
shipped  ;  a  woman  made  for  love.  Men  will 
remember  the  sound  of  your  voice,  the  shine 
of  your  eyes,  and  the  perfume  of  your  hair, 
always — always.  Ah,  my  queen !  I  would 
die  to-night  for  just  a  moment's  possession  of 
you.  It  would  mean  so  much  to  me ! ''  He 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  43 

drew  her  to  his  heart  before  she  could  resist ; 
and  she  lay  there,  crushed  and  passive.  She 
never  knew  or  understood  why  she  did  not 
resent  such  sudden  wooing,  and  often  mar 
veled  and  regretted  that  she  did  not  send  him 
away  and  thus  prove  kinder  to  him  in  the  end. 
The  sense  of  his  power  over  her  filled  her  with 
peace  and  calm  satisfaction  for  the  moment ; 
perhaps  that  was  why.  They  talked  on  for  a 
long  time.  He  threw  some  fresh  logs  on  the 
fire,  which  sent  up  bright  flames,  in  whose 
light  her  pale  face  and  gown  seemed  ethereally 
transformed. 

"  Promise  me,  little  one,  that  we  shall  be  mar 
ried  as  soon — ah,  as  soon  as  possible !  We  will  go 
through  the  West  and  through  the  Rockies  this 
summer.  You  would  like  that?"  he  interrogated. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  murmured  like  one  in  a 
dream.  "  It  will  all  be  so  new  and  delightful.5' 
Then  suddenly  a  frivolous  mood  came  over 
her,  as  it  often  did,  and  she  clapped  her  hands 
childishly.  "  Why,  that  will  be  an  excuse  to 
throw  over  all  those  charming  old  engage 
ments.  How  jolly !  Why,  I'd  marry  if  only 
to  have  that  happiness." 


44  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

"When  we  are  married,  darling,  you 
musn't  make  engagements  unless  you  wish. 
You  must  do  just  as  you  desire  with  me  and 
everyone  else.  I'm  sure  they  would  be  only 
too  willing  !  "  he  said  fondly. 

So  it  was  all  arranged;  and  they  were 
quietly  married  a  few  weeks  afterwards.  Mrs. 
Milson  was  well  pleased  with  her  daughter's 
choice,  and  returned  to  the  old  home  in  Vir 
ginia,  quite  content  with  her 
campaign. 

"  So  with  the  world,  thy  gentle  ways, 
Thy  grace,  thy  more  than  beauty, 
Shall  be  an  endless  theme  of  praise, 
And  love— a  simple  duty. " 


CHAPTEE   IV. 

'*  There  by  so  remote  a  fountain, 

That  whichever  way  one  wandered, 
League  on  league,  one  yet  should  never 
See  the  face  of  man."  YAMI. 

THEY  were  all  standing  in  the  waiting-room 
of  the  hotel  at  Glenwood  Springs,  Colorado — 
a  charming  town  in  the  Rockies — waiting  for 
the  bronchos,  Mexican  ponies,  to  come  around 
from  the  corral.    The  party  consisted  of  Ruth     / 
and  her  husband,  Mrs.  Rowe,  a  little  widow 
from  Denver,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Laddimer,  Mrs.    // 
Shirley,  and  her  handsome  bachelor  brother,   / 
Tom  Edmonson  characterized  mainly  by  his  / 
sporting  instincts,   and    three    college  boys,   /// 
all  from  Boston  ;  also  a  fair  young  man  with  j 
a  beautiful  mustache,  which  might  have  caused 
many  a  burning  envious  heart-throb  to  even 
an   Austrian    officer — one   of  those  who  af- 


46  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

feet  marvelous  straw-colored  mustaches,  which 
they  tie  at  the  back  of  their  heads  on 
windy  days. 

The  group  was  completed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Olney,  who  had  asked  them  all  to  come  and 
stay  with  them  for  two  weeks  at  Trappers' 
Lake,  for  the  shooting ;  and  who  had  come 
to  meet  them  at  Glenwood  Springs,  and  to 
conduct  them  thence  to  their  destination. 
They  were  all  to  ride  up  the  trail,  lunch 
in  the  great  wood  about  fifteen  miles  beyond, 
sleep  under  the  stars  that  night,  and  reach 
the  lake  the  next  day  at  noon.  Each  person 
was  allowed  fifty  pounds  of  luggage,  which 
was  strapped  on  pack  mules;  and  everyone 
followed  in  Indian  file  up  the  dangerous  path. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Olney  were  so  fond  of  sport  them 
selves  that  they  fancied  everyone  else  equally 
afflicted ;  for  what  is  a  greater  affliction,  pray, 
than  a  love  of  sport  and  horses  ? — particularly 
if  one  has  social  tendencies  also.  In  Feb 
ruary  and  March  one  is  expected  to  go  to 
Monte  Carlo,  when  one  wishes  to  cling  on 
to  the  tag  end  of  the  winter  hunting.  In 
April  and  May  one  is  expected  to  do  the 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  47 

London  season,  when  one's  heart  is  with  the 
deer  in  the  New  Forest.  In  July  and  Au 
gust  one  is  expected  to  be  in  the  country, 
giving  monotonous  garden  parties  and  occu 
pying  one's  self  with  similar  inanities,  when 
one's  blood  is  tingling  at  the  prospect  of 
hunting  the  stag  on  Ex-moor.  Or  else  one 
lets  one's  self  be  tempted  to  go  yachting  or 
boating  on  "  the  river,"  when  one  wants  a  bit 
of  shooting  in  Scotland  in  late  August  and 
September,  longing  to  tramp  about  the  rough 
heather-grown  hills,  after  the  birds,  and  breathe 
in  from  the  rare  pure  air  new  strength  and 
youth.  Then  the  cubbing  in  the  autumn ! 
What  fascinating  days  Mrs.  Olney  had  cub 
hunting  in  Yorkshire,  while  staying  at  Scar- 
boro',  a  seaside  resort  which  she  found  per 
fectly  enjoyable ;  for  she  knew  and  loved  every 
spot  within  walking  or  driving  distance  of  the 
place,  where  she  had  spent  two  happy  seasons. 
Those  hunting  mornings  she  would  get 
up  early,  so  early  that  she  would  take  her  egg 
and  cocoa  by  candle  light;  jump  into  her 
habit,  and  then  drive  through  the  misty  half- 
light  for  fifteen  and  often  twenty  miles  to  the 


48  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

meet  of  Captain  J 'a  foxhounds.  The  fog 

was  so  dense  very  often  that  she  could  hardly 
see  her  horse's  head,  as  she  spun  rapidly  along 
in  her  little  American  buck-board.  She  felt 
as  though  she  were  flying  through  a  mother- 
of-pearl  sea,  and  the  clumps  of  trees  seemed 
like  ghostly  islands,  in  the  weird  effect  of  the 
swift  movement  and  the  strange  light.  How 
she  enjoyed  driving  her  little  team  of  Yermont 
Morgan  cobs,  which  they  had  brought  over 
with  them  from  America.  She  knew  every 
road  through  the  woods,  and  over  the  breezy 
moors,  all  blooming  with  pink,  white,  and 
purple  heather ;  while  the  North  Sea  sparkled 
cheerily  far  down  below. 

She  was  never  tired  of  exploring  that  beau 
tiful  Yorkshire  country.  When  the  real  hunt 
ing  began,  and  she  went  down  into  the  Shires 
where  she  hunted  regularly,  she  never  forgot 
the  happy  days  at  Scarboro',  and  the  "  brush  '* 
that  the  gallant  huntsman  presented  to  her. 
Somehow,  the  rough  hills  of  Yorkshire  re 
minded  her  of  the  foot-hills  in  Colorado. 

But  to  return  to  my  narrative.  On  their 
way  up  the  mountains,  the  guest  party  passed 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  49 

by  the  natural  hot  mineral  springs,  which  are 
so  large  that  hundreds  of  people  can  swim  in 
them.  They  are  just  at  the  entrance  of  Glen- 
wood  Springs,  and  the  Indians  used  to  bathe 
there,  before  they  were  driven  into  the  Reser 
vation,  firmly  believing  that  they  would  be 
cured  of  every  ailment,  and  delivered  from 
all  evil  spirits. 

They  also  passed  the  caves  about  a  mile  or 
so  out,  and  everyone  insisted  on  going  in  to 
explore  them.  Ruth  had  wandered  off  thought 
lessly  from  the  others,  when  suddenly  a  gust 
of  wind  blowing  from  some  unknown  channel 
extinguished  her  candle.  The  cave  she  was 
in  was  very  large  and  dark ;  only  a  faint 
glimmer  of  daylight  came  in  through  a  chink 
in  the  rocks  far  above  her  head.  Somewhere 
in  the  frightful  shadows  she  heard  water  drip 
ping,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  it  were  the 
tears  of  some  poor  lost  soul  imprisoned  and 
doomed  to  eternal  solitude  there.  With  this 
sound  mingled  that  curious  gurgling  hum 
made  by  a  subterranean  stream. 

As  she  crept  along  cautiously,  for  fear  of 
falling  into  some  fathomless  pit,  she  heard  her 


50  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

husband  calling  "  Ruth !  Ruth,  where  are 
you  ?  "  Her  tongue  was  so  parched  with  a 
nervous  dread  that  she  could  not  answer  for  a 
moment,  but  stumbled  along  blindly  in  the 
darkness,  till  she  reached  the  opening  of  the 
cave,  and  half  fell  out  on  to  the  stony  ledge, 
where  she  found  all  her  friends  waiting  for 
her.  Quickly  mounting,  she  rode  on  after 
Pattison,  the  guide,  a  tall  muscular  Westerner, 
with  keen,  merry  blue  eyes,  and  an  inexhausti 
ble  fund  of  anecdotes.  The  horses  cantered 
along  up  to  their  cinches,  sometimes,  in  blue 
bells  and  other  wild  flowers ;  and  then  again 
crawled  stealthily  around  a  narrow  trail  at 
the  corner  of  a  precipice,  while  thousands  of 
feet  below  the  giant  trees  looked  like  mere 
toys. 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  impossible  to 
describe  all  the  grand  beauty  of  Colorado" 
Ruth  remarked  to  her  host,  causing  him  to 
flush  with  pleasure,  for  he  was  a  staunch  devo 
tee  of  the  Rockies. 

"  Oh  !  you  must  wait  until  you  get  higher 
up  before  you  realize  the  full  grandeur  of  our 
scenery.  You  may  then  understand  why  it 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  51 

fascinates  so  many  people  who  are  weary  of 
the  world"  was  his  answer. 

"  You  do  not  seem  very  world-weary,  Mr. 
Olney!"  said  Buth,  flashing  on  him  an  ad 
miring  smile,  which  rather  upset  him  for  the 
moment.  He  did  not  know  how  to  take  this 
woman,  as  he  had  never  seen  anyone  quite 
like  her  before. 

"  No !  far  from  it"  he  replied.  "  As  a  mat 
ter  of  fact,  I'm  brimful  of  worldly  interest 
— running  over  with  it,  indeed ;  but  I  can 
quite  sympathize  with  a  man  flying  to  the 
heart  of  this  lovely  wilderness  to  get  away 
from  the  turmoil  and  vanities  of  life." 

Ruth  looked  wonderingly  out  of  the  corners  of 
her  long  gray  eyes  at  this  man,  who  every  one 
thought  lived  only  for  money  ;  she  was  glad 
to  find  that  he  had  been  misjudged. 

"  Why,  we  shall  probably  meet  a  trapper  be 
fore  we  reach  camp,"  he  continued,  "  who  I  am 
sure  has  a  story,  and  no  uncommon  one  either. 
He  has  been  living  in  a  dug-out  in  the  White 
River  Valley  for  the  last  five  years,  with  only 
his  rifle  and  an  old  collie  as  companions.  He 
is  the  queerest  sort,  and  never  speaks  to  a  liv- 


52  THE     SHADOW     OF     DKSIBK. 

ing  soul,  unless  you  come  across  him  unexpect 
edly,  and  he  can't  help  himself." 

"  But  how  does  he  live  ?  One  must  be  pro 
visioned  you  know"  cried  Ruth,  becoming 
practical. 

"  Oh,  very  comfortably,  I  believe.  Four  or 
five  times  a  year  the  guides  who  trade  at  the 
Springs  bring  him  canned  things  and  the  rude 
necessaries  of  life,  and  he  repays  them  in 
furs.  They  say  he  hates  civilization,  and 
nothing  can  induce  him  to  come  out  of  his 
hermitage." 

They  were  loping  in  a  go-as-you-please 
fashion,  over  a  mesa.  The  mountains  rolled 
over  one  another  in  the  distance  like  big  bilr 
lows  of  a  mighty  sea.  A  solitary  eagle  poised 
for  a  second  in  the  air,  far  above  their  heads, 
and  majestically  sailed  away. 

Ruth,  as  she  idly  watched  it,  ceased  to  think 
of  what  Mr.  Olney  had  just  told  her  about 
the  recluse,  and  to  wonder  what  was  the  trag 
edy  in  his  life ;  and  began  to  speculate  as  to 
whether  after  all  there  was  any  truth  in  the 
doctrine  of  reincarnation. 

"  How  I  envy  that  bird  his  flight !      What 


THE     8HADOW     OP     DESIRE.  53 

a  delicious  sensation  it  must  be  to  be  float 
ing  in  the  heavens  at  one's  own  will"  she 
said,  as  the  clever  little  horses  picked  their 
way  over  a  prairie-dog  village. 

"  Perhaps  he  is  the  soul  of  some  great  ge 
nius.  See  how  he  defies  the  sun,  and  with 
what  disdain  he  circles  above  us." 

"I  think  all  those  advanced  theories  mad 
dening!''  ejaculated  Mr.  Olney,  feeling  curi 
ously  vexed  with  the  girl,  for  he  was  one 
of  those  men  who  did  not  approve  of  isms 
for  women.  Mrs.  Shirley  had  once  remarked 
to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Laddimer  (Mrs.  Shirley 
was  from  Boston),  "  Poor  Mr.  Olney  is  always 
bored  with  women  when  they  go  into  deep 
water.  I  believe  he  thinks  he  is  in  danger  of 
drowning  every  time  I  open  my  mouth." 

u  It  is  rather  large,  dear !"  sweetly  replied 
Mrs.  Laddimer;  and  Mrs.  Shirley  felt  as 
though  her  fur  had  been  stroked  the  wrong 
way.  Little  things  go  to  make  up  the  sum  of 
life.  Mrs.  Shirley  was  not  only  very  hand 
some,  but  very  brainy ;  and  her  friend  annoyed 
her  by  insisting  on  misunderstanding  all  her 
bright  remarks.  Not  through  any  evil  mo- 


54  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE. 

tive  though  ;  but  she,  being  also  a  witty  Bos- 
tonian,  liked  to  cross  swords  with  her  friends, 
to  see  the  sparks  fly. 

They  rode  into  camp  just  before  twilight. 
Pattison,  the  guide,  gave  a  wild  whoop  of  de 
light  when  he  first  saw  the  faint  blue  curl  of 
the  smoke  of  the  camp-fires  coming  up  through 
the  trees.  He  galloped  down  the  valley,  fol 
lowed  close  by  Ruth  and  all  the  others  in  the 
merriest  helter-skelter.  It  was  all  so  pictur 
esque  to  Ruth,  for  it  was  the  first  real  camp 
scene  she  had  ever  witnessed. 

The  place  where  the  tents  were  pitched  for 
the  night,  selected  by  the  guides  who  had 
been  sent  on  in  advance,  was  a  small  dell,  blue 
with  gentians ;  and  near  by,  a  cold,  clear 
brook  leaped  and  brawled  down  the  mountain 
side. 

The  tent  for  the  women  was  pitched  against 
some  giant  pines ;  and  in  front  of  it  a  huge 
log  fire  burned.  Some  yards  off,  the  horses 
were  tethered  to  long  ropes,  so  they  could  not 
stray  off  too  far  while  they  ate  the  sweet  wet 
grass  and  wild  oats  all  through  the  night. 

Over  in  the  shelter  of  some  rocks  another 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  55 

fire  burned,  and  around  it  crouched  the  trap 
pers  cooking  supper.  They  all  hurriedly  dis 
mounted,  and  the  men  quickly  ungirthed  the 
horses  to  make  them  comfortable,  before  at 
tending  to  anything  else  as  is  the  unwritten 
law  and  custom  in  that  land  of  promise.  A 
large  blanket  was  spread  near  the  fire,  on 
which  everyone  sat  in  Turkish  fashion,  and 
ate  delicious  trout  fresh  caught  from  the 
brook ;  elk  steak ;  and  hot  rolls,  with  which 
they  drank  coffee.  Ruth  complimented 
Wheeler,  the  camp  cook,  and  begged  for  more 
helpings.  She  was  as  "  hungry  as  a  hunter,'* 
and  excited  with  the  novelty.  Soon  after  sup 
per  they  all  rolled  themselves  up  in  their 
blankets,  and  slept ;  for  they  had  to  make  an 
early  start  the  next  morning.  One  of  the 
trappers  was  left  on  guard  to  keep  up  the  fire 
during  the  night ;  that  was  to  frighten  off  any 
wild  beasts  coming  down  from  the  mountains 
and  prowling  around.  The  man,  after  smok 
ing  his  pipe,  lay  down  by  the  fire,  fatigued 
with  his  long  day's  journey.  Ruth  was  lying 
tucked  up  in  a  fur  sack,  next  to  Mrs.  Shirley ; 
all  the  women  in  the  tent  were  sleeping  ex- 


56  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

cept  herself.  Sitting  up,  she  watched  her 
friends  peacefully  dreaming,  rolled  up  in  their 
blankets.  She  fancied  that  she  would  like  to 
go  outside,  and  gaze  into  the  lonely  mysteri 
ous  night.  Cautiously  getting  up  she  put 
aside  the  flap  of  the  tent,  and  walked  over  to 
the  fire  to  feel  the  warmth  of  the  glowing 
coals.  The  guide  was  fast  asleep,  his 
brown  face  darkened  in  the  dying  firelight. 
The  shadows  beyond  grew  and  deepened. 
Ruth  imagined  she  saw  fiery  eyes  staring  at 
her  from  out  the  darkness. 

The  pines  stood  up  noble  and  solemn,  until 
they  almost  touched  the  black-blue  sky  where 
the  stars  gleamed  in  splendor.  How  near  the 
earth  the  stars  seemed  ;  aod  so  many,  so  many, 
and  such  large  stars!  Euth  thought  that  if 
she  could  only  climb  that  great  pine,  she  might 
reach  that  star  which  came  so  near  its  highest 
branches.  Off  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  she 
could  hear  the  strange  low  cry  of  some  wild 
beast ;  and  near  by,  the  three  short  barks  of 
the  timber  wolf  ;  another,  and  then  another — 
until  all  the  night  was  an  echo  of  their  deso 
lation. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  57 

Shivering,  she  quickly  fled  back  to  the  tent, 
and  tied  the  flap  securely,  for  fear  the  poor 
hungry  brutes  would  try  to  get  in,  although 
Pattison  had  assured  her  that  they  never  ap 
proached  a  fire ;  but  nevertheless  she  was 
afraid,  and  listened  to  their  sharp  barks  all 
through  the  night. 

The  fire  flared  up  fitfully  and  went  out,  just 
as  the  valley  around  grew  gray  with  dawn; 
and  she  too  slept. 


1  Then  stirs  the  feeling  infinite,  so  felt 
In  solitude,  where  we  are  least  alone." 


BYRON. 


CHAPTER   V. 

'*  After  touch  of  wedded  hands, 
After  travel  in  strange  lands." 

MOHCKTON  MILNES. 

THE  camp  was  astir  as  daylight  broke  over 
the  mountains.  Men  were  calling  out  to  each 
other  and  getting  the  pack-mules  ready.  One 
queer  little  Indian  pony,  that  the  guides  had 
dubbed  "  Forkie"  because  his  ears  had  been 
slit  in  his  youth  like  a  two-pronged  fork, 
was  manifesting  serious  objection  to  the  duties 
of  life. 

It  was  his  fate  to  carry  the  cooking  uten 
sils;  and  every  time  they  were  tied  on  his 
back,  he  would  deliberately  roll  over  and  rub 
them  off,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  guests. 
It  was  a  glorious  morning;  all  the  wild -flowers 
and  woods  were  silvered  with  a  slight  frost, 
although  it  was  the  middle  of  August ;  but 
the  sun  soon  made  the  air  balmy,  and  sweet 


THE     SHADOW     OF    DESIRE.  59 

perfumes  from  thousands  of  the  flowers  of 
that  bountiful  and  beautiful  land  floated 
around. 

After  an  ideal  ride  further  and  further  up 
into  the  fastnesses,  and  around  the  corner 
of  a  jagged  cliff,  they  came  suddenly  upon 
Trappers'  Lake. 

Ruth  was  awed  by  the  majesty  and  beauty 
of  the  spot.  The  Lake  scintillated  and  flashed 
in  the  sun  like  a  great  fire- opal  set  in  millions 
of  sapphires  and  other  precious  stones. 

Giant  trees  loomed  around,  and  leaned 
against  the  mountains  like  eternal  sentinels, 
grim,  true,  and  never  sleeping  ;  so  jealous  were 
they  in  their  vigilance. 

The  many  tender  greens  of  the  firs  and 
spruces,  and  the  quivering  gleam  of  the  silver 
poplars  and  aspens,  made  fair  smiling  breaks 
in  the  gloom  here  and  there ;  while  huge  red, 
yellow  and  gray  rocks  stood  out  boldly  from 
the  leafy  shadows. 

Trappers'  Lake  is  in  the  heart  of  the 
Rockies.  It  is  there  whejre  the  brook  trout 
breed ;  and  deer,  elk,  mountain  sheep,  bear, 
and  other  wild  creatures  come  down  to  drink. 


SIT  7] 


60  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

On  the  shore  of  the  Lake  Mr.  Olney  had 
built  three  large  comfortable  log  cabins  ;  each 
one  contained  two  rooms.  One  cabin  was  the 
kitchen  and  dining-room,  another  was  the 
sleeping-room  for  the  men,  and  the  gun-room. 

A  little  way  up  a  hill  was  the  cabin  for  the 
ladies. 

One  room  they  all  slept  in,  and  the  other  they 
transformed  into  a  most  comfortable  sitting- 
room,  hung  with  hammocks,  and  adorned  with 
bits  of  bright  calico,  Indian  rugs,  and  tin  cans 
cunningly  arranged,  and  filled  with  wild-flow 
ers  and  grasses. 

Everyone  improvised  something.  At  night 
when  logs  were  blazing  in  the  large  stone  fire 
places,  and  candles  were  burning  above  it, 
they  would  all  congregate  around  the  hearth 
and  tell  of  what  sport  they  had  had  that  day, 
while  outside  the  wild  beasts  and  the  wind 
would  howl  in  chorus. 

-Sometimes  one  of  the  boys  would  play  the 
banjo,  and  everyone  would  sing  college  songs  ; 
or  they  would  pass  away  the  hour  between 
supper  and  bed  time  with  cards  or  some  sort 
of  game. 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  61 

What  a  perfect  Lotus  land  it  was !  The 
savage  lullaby  of  the  wilderness  was  much 
more  effective  than  chloral  in  inducing  sleep 
there. 

It  was  a  royal  camp-life.  Mr.  Olney  had 
sent  in  many  sorts  of  luxuries  on  pack-ani 
mals,  but  of  course  the  fresh  meat  had  to  be 
shot ;  and  this  necessitated  hard  work  in  that 
rough  land  ;  but  it  afforded  the  sporting  ones 
much  joy,  for  nothing  could  exceed  the  keen 
pleasure  of  those  long  tramps  after  the  game 
with  which  the  country  abounds. 

All  the  men  had  good  luck,  so  they  said. 

Mrs.  Shirley  was  very  fond  of  landing  the 
wily  trout ;  and  she,  Mrs.  Laddimer  and  Kuth 
had  great  success  with  the  line.  The  silvery 
darlings  would  steal  in  and  out  of  the  still, 
clear,  shadowy  coves,  and  then  dart  up  like  a 
flash  of  moonshine  to  the  fly.  How  Ruth 
loved  to  play  them  (she  was  beginning  to  love 
to  play  men  too),  until  weak  and  exhausted 
she  landed  them  in  the  little  canvas  boat,  or 
flung  them  high  up  on  the  mossy  bank  where 
she  would  walk  and  cast. 

Sometimes  Mr.  Olney  and  his  party  would 


62  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

make  excursions  to  the  higher  peaks  which 
were  covered  with  snow,  and  take  luncheon, 
sitting  Turk  fashion  around  a  fire. 

One  day  they  went  up  to  see  the  a  Devil's 
Causeway,"  so  called  by  the  mountaineers  be 
cause  it  is  a  narrow  crossing  only  a  foot  wide 
in  some  places,  and  fifty  feet  long.  It  is  situ 
ated  between  two  of  the  highest  peaks  in  the 
mountains.  They  all  rode  up  on  bronchos, 
and  when  they  came  to  the  dangerous  cross 
ing,  dismounted,  walked  to  the  edge  of  the 
precipice,  and  gazed  down  into  the  awful 
depths  with  awe.  Hoydenish  Mrs.  Olney  ran 
across  as  nimbly  as  a  wild  goat,  much  to  her 
husband's  distraction,  and  waved  a  challenge 
to  Buth  and  Mrs.  Shirley  from  the  opposite 
peak  to  join  her;  whereupon  Mrs.  Shirley, 
with  sturdy  New  England  determination  shin 
ing  in  her  blue  eyes,  held  her  breath  for  a 
moment,  and  then  walked  safely  over  to  her, 
followed  by  Buth,  who  hated  the  idea  of  the 
horrible  distance  far  down  below  them  on 
either  side;  but  she  kept  a  " stiff  upper  lip," 
and  eyes  fixed  straight  ahead.  Yet  she  almost 
fainted  through  sheer  relief  when  she  grasped 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

the  helping  hand  which  her  kind  little  hostess 
held  out  to  her.  Then  the  three  women 
laughed  defiantly  at  their  nervous  cavaliers  on 
the  other  side,  until  the  laugh  became  almost 
a  gurgle  of  despair  in  their  throats,  as  they 
remembered  that  they  had  to  retrace  their 
steps  over  that  dreadful  chasm.  How  white 
and  pure  it  all  was  up  there,  and  how  close  to 
them  stooped  the  caressing  clouds !  The  busy 
world  seemed  far  away. 

Ruth  wished  that  she  could  be  alone  there, 
for  hers  was  a  selfish  nature  in  such  moments. 

She  took  the  keenest  delight  in  perching  on 
some  isolated  spot  near  the  lake,  and  dream 
ing,  dreaming — of  the  love  and  infinite  sym 
pathy,  and  the  tender  protection  of  her  lion- 
hearted  husband.  So  one  might  guess,  to 
look  at  her  sweet,  fair  face ;  but  perhaps — I 
only  say  perhaps — she  might  have  been  dream 
ing  of  something  else  ;  something  less  desira 
ble. 

Euth  was  slowly  undergoing  a  transforma 
tion  through  contact  with  the  limited,  narrow 
disposition  of  her  very  excellent  and  devoted 
husband.  Above  all,  she  was  aware  of  the 


64  THE     SHADOW     OP    DESIRE. 

contradiction  of  his  nature  to  her  own  essen 
tially  feminine  one.  Waldo  Bronson  chafed 
and  rebelled  against  the  knowledge  that  he 
was  not  all  sufficient  to  his  wife.  He  was  not 
broad  enough  in  his  worldly  experience,  even 
at  forty-three  years  of  age,  to  realize  that 
women  like  Ruth  require  constant  change  of 
companions,  climate,  and  mode  of  thought  to 
keep  them  alive  and  bright.  He  grieved 
sometimes  because  she  was  cold ;  then  he  be 
came  more  devoted  than  ever,  not  knowing 
that  it  was  intercourse  with  the  world,  and  ex 
change  of  intellectual  sympathies,  for  which 
she  was  unconsciously  pining. 

She  was  recalled  from  dreamland  by  Mrs. 
Shirley,  who  had  discovered  in  a  sunny  corner 
some  blue  gentians  with  a  strange  new  per 
fume.  The  gentians  in  the  East  have  no 
scent,  but  the  Colorado  gentians  around  Trap 
pers'  Lake  are  of  an  overpowering  sweetness. 

The  three  women  gathered  some  of  the 
flowers,  then  quietly  walked  over  to  the  other 
side  of  the  "  Devil's  Causeway  "  to  where  the 
men  were  impatiently  awaiting  them.  Some 
how  Ruth  did  not  so  much  dread  the  return 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  65 

as  she  had  done  the  first  crossing.  It  was 
perhaps  with  this  as  with  all  of  life's  novel 
ties  ;  the  fascination  of  danger  soon  wears  off. 

They  all  loped  slowly  back  to  the  lake 
through  the  snow,  by  the  shadowy  Indian 
trail  of  the  forest. 

The  next  afternoon,  Ruth  and  her  husband, 
Pattison  and  another  stalwart  trapper  set  out 
on  horseback  to  shoot  deer  and  elk,  carrying 
their  cooking  utensils  and  bedding  on  two 
pack-mules  as  usual. 

Until  almost  sundown  they  pressed  on  up 
the  White  River  Yalley  and  over  the  range. 

Pattison  encamped  about  a  mile  from  a 
deer-lick,  a  marshy  place  where  the  deer  come 
in  the  dim,  gray  mornings  to  drink.  After 
the  usual  simple  supper,  they  "turned  in" 
under  the  stars,  with  the  exception  of  Ruth, 
for  whom  the  others  bent  down  the  branches 
of  a  small  tree,  and  threw  over  it  some  canvas 
to  keep  off  the  frost,  which  falls  heavily  in 
that  country  at  all  seasons ;  and  they  slept  as 
one  can  only  sleep  in  that  country,  until  the 
first  faint  gray  streaks  of  dawn  appeared. 
Quickly  dispatching  coffee  and  bacon,  which 


66  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

is  the  main  stand-by  of  that  camping  life,  they 
shouldered  their  rifles  and  marched  one  after 
another,  with  as  little  noise  as  possible.  After 
a  circuitous  walk  of  a  mile  or  so,  they  ap 
proached  the  deer-lick. 

In  about  fifteen  minutes  Pattison's  "  Sh'  " 
called  their  attention  to  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
where  some  deer  were  calmly  grazing.  One 
big  buck  came  trotting  slowly  down  towards 
the  marsh.  Ruth's  heart  beat  fast  as  she  took 
a  steady  aim  at  him.  For  the  moment  she  was 
conscious  only  of  the  kick  of  the  rifle ;  and 
next  at  the  sight  of  the  poor  wounded  animal 
as  he  staggered  on  for  a  few  yards,  and  then 
fell  amongst  the  bushes,  as  the  men  rushed  up 
to  him. 

Was  it  her  sentimentality,  or  only  natural 
womanly  weakness,  she  could  not  tell ;  but 
when  the  dying  creature  turned  its  big,  sor 
rowful  eyes  up  to  her  appealingly,  it  seemed 
to  her  as  if  the  look  in  them  was  like  that  in 
Jack  Carey's — those  sad,  brown  eyes  which 
had  gazed  at  her  so  pleadingly  when  she  went 
to  Europe,  before  her  second  marriage  ;  never 
could  she  forget  them. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  67 

On  pulling  out  her  knife  to  cut  the  beast's 
throat,  her  hand  fell  nerveless  at  her  side.  She 
was  ashamed  of  her  weakness,  but  powerless  to 
resist  it.  Her  husband,  with  the  unimpas- 
sioned  eye  of  a  hunter,  was  eagerly  watching 
her ;  and  when  she  hesitated  he  stooped  down 
and  gave  the  deer  a  home  thrust :  then  the 
men  swung  it  across  their  shoulders  on  a  pole, 
and  carried  it  back  to  camp. 

All  that  day  they  stalked  the  mountains  for 
elk  ;  and  at  last  Waldo  Bronson,  who  was  in 
advance,  brought  down  a  noble  one,  the  king 
of  the  herd.  Then  they  packed  the  elk  and 
deer  on  the  extra  mule,  and  returned  to  the 
lake  by  dark.  On  the  way  back  Pattison 
shot  several  brace  of  tree-grouse  with  a 
revolver. 

McNerney,  the  man  who  had  built  the  cab 
ins  and  rafts,  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered 
blonde,  the  perfection  of  manly  beauty,  with 
a  clear-cut  face  and  frank  blue  eyes,  which 
filled  Ruth's  artistic  soul  with  admiration. 

One  morning  while  he  was  rowing  her,  as 
she  trolled  for  trout,  she  remarked  to  him, 
'*  You  remind  me  so  much  in  appearance  of 


68  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Adam  Bede ;  he  was  a  carpenter,  too,  you 
know." 

McNerney  looked  up  at  her  swiftly  as  he 
bent  his  giant  form  to  the  oars,  while  a  bright 
color  mounted  his  sunburnt  face.  "  Adarn 
Bede  without  the  motive  or  voice  perhaps 
you  mean,"  he  replied. 

Ruth  noticed  that  his  eyes  had  darkened 
with  emotion,  and  she  felt  embarrassed  at  the 
thought  that  perhaps  she  had  been  too  per 
sonal.  "Oh,  no!  I  only  meant  a  physical 
resemblance,"  she  said.  They  did  not  con 
tinue  the  conversation  ;  but  she  learned  after 
wards  that  the  carpenter's  tent  was  full  of 
books,  the  classics  dominating ;  and  she  never 
realized  so  strongly  before  or  since  that  time 
what  strange  phases  of  life  were  to  be  met 
with  in  her  native  land. 

They  all  rode  back  to  Glenwood  Springs  a 
day  or  two  after,  and  went  on  to  Denver  by 
the  midnight  express. 

After  enjoying  a  week  in  the  charming  lit 
erary  and  musical  circles  of  Denver,  Ruth  and 
her  husband  bade  all  her  acquaintances  good 
bye,  and  journeyed  on  to  New  York,  where  she 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  69 

was  booked  to  sail  for  England  on  the  "  Majes 
tic."  Her  old  schoolmate,  Mildred,  had  invited 
her  to  spend  a  month  or  so  with  her  in  her  new 
home,  and  she  was  eager  with  the  anticipation 
of  it,  and  yearned  feverishly  to  have  the  old 
girlish  exchange  of  confidences,  with  one  who 
had  been  born  under  the  same  Southern  moon 
with  herself;  but  she  had  another  motive, 
that  of  a  sacred  duty  to  perform.  She  wished 
to  help  Mildred  to  regain  her  womanhood  and 
strength  of  purpose  amid  the  new  complica 
tions  and  difficulties  of  her  recent  life. 

The  guardian  angel  exists  in  every  woman ; 
no  matter  how  many  caprices  she  herself  may 
indulge  in,  she  loathes  the  signs  and  the  cruel 
lines  with  which  passion  marks  and  mars  the 
faces  and  souls  of  her  dear  ones. 

Woman  is  instinctively  a  mother,  from  the 
time  when  she  croons  softly  to  her  first  doll, 
until  the  happy  time  comes  around  (if  it  ever 
does — alas  !)  when  the  doll  has  become  a  soft, 
living,  breathing  atom  of  humanity  ;  and  a 
great,  overwhelming  joy  turns  her  young  milk 
sweet;  and  her  loving  eyes  shine  with  the 
grandeur  of  maternity.  Kuth  felt  that  noble 


70  THE     BHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

instinct  stir,  when  she  received  a  pitiable  letter 
from  Mildred,  of  which  the  following  is  a 
portion : 

"What  a  day  and  night  I've  had,  dear 
Ruth !  Stupid  in  one  way,  and  yet  gay  in 
another,  if  you  look  at  it  in  a  worldly — or 
more  truthfully  speaking — county  way.  Peo 
ple  to  lunch,  crowds  to  tennis  and  tea ;  a  hur 
ried  toilet  and  a  rush  to  a  dinner  about  seven 
miles  off.  Lodge  gates  locked — they  are  al 
ways  locked  when  I'm  in  haste !  — shouts  for 
the  old  woman  and  key — ah  me !  language  ! — 
tears ! — Thank  goodness,  we  are  on  the  road 
at  last. 

"  Darkness  in  the  carriage — I  often  want  to 
invent  carriage  lights — inside,  I  mean.  How 
goes  your  latest  flirtation  ?  I  inquire  of  my 
wicked  cousin,  while  I  am  slowly  getting 
f or'arder  with  a  new  pair  of  gloves  ;  knowing 
his  weakness,  I  feel  safe  in  making  this  in 
quiry  ;  but  strange  to  relate,  he  doesn't  take  it 
in  the  right  way. 

"  I  adore  him  yet,  Ruth  ;  but  one  must  not 
spoil  favorites ;  we  should  take  them  down  a 
peg,  as  we  Americans  say,  or  they  will  climb 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  71 

too  high  eventually  with  no  support,  and  then 
down  they  come — crash  ! 

"  How  slangy  one  grows  in  this  nineteenth 
century  !  That  reminds  me  that  we  are  a  bit 
hard  on  the  nineteenth  century.  Everything 
is  blamed  on  her.  I  am  sure  her  shoulders  are 
tremendous,  or  she  couldn't  bear  up  under  the 
censure. 

"  Well,  to  hark  back  to  my  question.  My 
relative  seems  very  much  annoyed,  which 
shows  which  way  the  wind  blows ;  or,  in  more 
grandiloquent  terms,  how  the  blood  pulses. 

"  The  carriage  goes  grinding  and  crunching 
up  the  gravel  drive  to  my  neighbor's  door. 
The  fat  old  horses  trot  on  like  machines.  The 
scent  of  the  hay-stacks  in  the  fields  over  the 
hedge  steals  through  the  landau  windows,  like 
a  tender  caress,  in  the  warm  soft  darkness,  as 
we  get  nearer  the  house.  A  sin  !  A  crime, 
you  say !  But  the  stars  shine  on,  and  our 
hearts  beat  hotly.  Ceremony — dinner — a  hum 
of  voices.  Cousin  way  down  the  other  side 
of  the  table  talking  to  the  daughter  of  the 
house,  making  her  blue  eyes  big  with  wonder ; 
for  cousin  is  witty,  and  knows  how  to  use  hie 


72  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

eyes  also  while  talking.  Those  eyes  of  his  a^re 
brigands,  I  tell  him,  which  steal  away '-0*11: 
peace. 

"  That  nasty  jealous  pain  again  in  my  heart ! 
And  I  know  I  am  growing  pale.  I  begin 
desperately  to  talk  scandal,  church  affairs, ..sci 
ence,  and  even  crops — how  droll,  for  I  don't 
know  turnips  from  corn.  When  I  suggested 
the  shooting,  I  found  that  my  companion  was 
not  quite  such  a  mere  pudding  as  I  had  at  first 
fancied.  He  told  me  how  well  the  birds  flew, 
what  a  big  bag  he  and  his  friends  had  scored 
the  last  day,  and  what  a  fine  show  of  pheas 
ants  they  had.  Then  he  alludes  fondly  to^the 
hunt,  and  tells  of  the  show  of  foxes,  and  I 
innocently  remark  that  we  have  never  been 
known  to  find  in  his  covers. 

"A  convulsive  sound  conies  from  behind 
the  napkin  of  a  sporting  young  friend,  who  is 
my  neighbor  on  the  other  side,  as  he  buries 
his  face  in  it.  I  stare  at  my  shooting  friend, 
and  wonder  a  wee  bit  about  the  wire,  and  the 
blank  days  we  have  had  over  his  land.  A  near 
neighbor  tells  me  merrily  of  his  young  mare 
which  he  is  '  making,'  and  of  what  a  clinking 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  73 

c  good  un '  she  is.  Then  he  goes  on  to  say 
that  he  has  kept  'fit'  all  summer  through 
that  glorious  game  of  tennis.  I  hate  tennis 
myself,  golf  is  much  more  amusing,  but  I 
smile  sympathetically,  because  I  always  like 
to  encourage  comfortable  looking  men,  and  he 
is  decidedly  that — about  eighteen  stone,  I'd 
wager. 

"How  long  the  dinner  is!  But  I  don't 
mind.  I  like  my  host  and  his  wife,  who  is 
such  a  '  comfy '  practical  dear ;  besides  she  al 
ways  asks  one  or  two  of  my  chums. 

"  There's  one  congenial  soul  here  to-night, 
and  I'm  going  to  sit  on  a  lounge  near  the 
door,  and  carelessly  look  over  a  magazine 
where  I  noticed  an  article  on  electricity ;  and 
he  will  stroll  in  presently,  and  sit  by  me  and 
tell  me  wonderful  things  in  the  latest  develop 
ments  of  that  force. 

"How  serious  most  of  the  women  appear 
to  be !  They  huddle  in  little  groups,  expa 
tiating  on  their  respective  infants,  and  of  what 
their  husbands  will  or  will  not  allow  them  to 
do.  I'm  not  a  bit  of  a  woman's  rights  advo- 
vate,  but  I  know  I'm  superior  to  most  of  the 


74  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

men  I  know,  both  morally  and  intellectu 
ally. 

"  It  sickens  me  to  see  that  dissipated,  pomp 
ous  Mr.  Hodkins  patronizing  his  wife ;  but 
perhaps  she  likes  it,  so  there's  no  harm  done. 
I  seem  foreign  to  these  women;  they  don't 
quite  understand  my  independence. 

"If  I  were  a  horse,  I  should  try  to  break 
anyone's  neck  who  tried  to  put  a  curb  in  my 
mouth. 

"  Good-nights  are  spoken,  and  we  drive  off 
through  the  soft  sweet  night  again. 

"  Only  the  monotonous  roll  of  the  carriage 
wheels  is  heard. 

"  I  lie  back  in  a  corner  with  my  feet  resting 
on  the  opposite  seat,  puffing  my  cigarette  in  a 
stingy  way,  dreamily  regretting  to  see  it  burn 
out,  because  it  was  the  last  in  the  case ;  besides 
cousin  lit  it  for  me. 

"  We  have  always  smoked  together,  and  he 
often  pretends  that  my  cigarette  is  his  when 
he  hears  anyone  coming.  Ah  me !  My  blood 
flows  so  fast  to-night.  Something  cries  out  to 
me  in  my  inner  consciousness  ' Resist!  Re 
sist!  Desire  fulfilled  is  sweet,  I  know;  but 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IKE.  75 

sorrow  will  follow.  Dream  and  love  no  more. 
It  will  not  avail.  Life,  age,  death,  every  law 
of  God  and  man  forbids !' 

<(  "We  are  at  home  at  last.  I  go  wearily  up 
to  my  room,  throw  open  the  window,  and  let 
in  the  cool,  pure  air ;  then  I  blow  out  the  can 
dle,  fold  the  blankets  close  around  me,  and  try 
to  sleep ;  but  sleep,  rest,  nor  comfort  will  come 
to  me ;  for  I  know  that  his  room  is  near  mine ; 
and  I  picture  him  fast  asleep  by  this  time, 
with  his  dark  head  and  handsome  face  show 
ing  up  clear  on  the  pillow ;  and  I  toss  and  cry 
all  night.  The  love  of  my  childhood  has  only 
grown  stronger  with  my  womanhood. 

"  When  I  no  longer  respond  to  his  voice  or 
touch,  I  shall  be  dead. 

"  Come,  Ruth,  and  comfort  me ! 

"  MILDRED." 

"And  if  I  laugh  at  any  mortal  thing, 
*TiB  that  I  may  not  weep." 

BYRON. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  I  had  a  neet  full  once  of  my  own  ; 

Ah  1  happy,  happy  I. 

Oh,  how  I  loved  them !    But  when  they  were  grown 
They  spread  out  their  wings  to  fly." 

JEAN  INOELOW. 

THE  train  slowly  drew  up  at  Euston  Sta 
tion,  with  much  fuss  and  noise,  as  though  it 
were  utterly  disgusted  with  the  long  and  cold 
journey  from  Liverpool  and  its  load  of  tired, 
grumbling  passengers. 

Ruth  Bronson  wiped  the  moisture  from  the 
window-pane  of  the  carriage,  and  peered  out 
into  the  grimy  faces  of  the  porters,  who  were 
running  alongside  the  train,  to  be  in  time, 
when  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  to  assist 
with  the  luggage,  and  to  pick  up  many  an 
extra  shilling  from  the  Americans. 

The  sun,  glowing    through   the    fog,  and 


THE    "SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  77 

looking  for  all  the  world  like  an  exaggerated 
orange,  of  which  "  Alice  in  Wonderland " 
might  dream,  cast  an  amber  glory  over  the 
fretful  passengers  and  their  much-labeled 
boxes.  At  last  Ruth  caught  sight  of  the  tall 
form  of  Mildred  looming  up  through  the  cu 
rious  shadows,  as  she  hurried  forward,  fol 
lowed  by  her  husband,  Mr.  Holbourne,  and  an 
enormous  footman ;  but  Ruth  was  too  dusty 
and  hungry  to  notice  whether  or  not  her 
friend  had  changed  much. 

"  I'm  going  to  rush  you  right  through  home. 
A  bit  more  exertion  for  you,  perhaps,  but 
you'll  be  all  the  more  <  comfy.'  "  So  Mildred 
chattered  on,  while  they  changed  trains ;  and 
then  after  another  half  hour  they  drove  up  to 
Forest  House,  and  she  was  shown  to  a  cosy 
suite  of  rooms,  with  a  fine  view  of  the  terrace 
and  the  undulating  park  beyond. 

The  next  morning  she  did  not  get  up  until 
it  was  time  for  luncheon.  Mildred  came  for 
her,  looking  strong  and  rosy,  and  wearing  a 
shooting  costume. 

"I've  been  out  all  the  morning,  prac 
tising  at  clay  pigeons.  It's  such  fun ;  did 


78  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE. 

you  ever  try  your  hand  ? "  she  asked,  as 
she  showed  the  way  through  huge  corri 
dors,  up  and  down,  and  around  queer  corners 
and  stairways,  until  they  reached  the  morning- 
room. 

"  No.  I've  never  had  a  go  at  pigeons, 
but  I'm  awfully  fond  of  walking  after  the 
birds." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  quite  well  what  a 
crack  shot  you  were  with  the  partridges  at 
home." 

"  Yes.  I  can  thank  Jack  Carey  for  my 
bloodthirsty  tendencies,''  answered  Ruth. 
"  Dear  old  Jack,  what  infinite  pains  he  took 
with  my  sporting  education.  Why,  I  never 
knew  how  to  jump  until  he  put  me  on  that 
little  mare  of  his  and  coaxed  me  over.  I 
never  knew  how  to  cast  a  fly,  until  he  wasted 
hours  in  showing  me,  dear  old  boy  !  " 

"  Well,  he  is  certainly  well  paid  for  his 
trouble,  for  you've  a  most  enviable  record 
with  your  sporting  friends,''  cried  Mildred 
enthusiastically.  "By  the  way,"  she  con 
tinued,  "  did  you  know  that  Jack  Carey  is 
abroad  now  ? '' 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  79 

"No,"  answered  Euth  delightedly.  "  In 
England?" 

"He  is  in  Scotland  now,  shooting  with  some 
friends.  He  will  probably  stay  with  us  for  a 
few  days  before  he  goes  on  the  Continent." 

There  were  quite  a  number  of  guests  stay 
ing  at  Forest  House  ;  and  amongst  them  Cap 
tain  Sultingham,  an  Indian  officer,  on  home 
leave,  who  sat  next  to  Ruth.  He  was  a  tall, 
thin  man,  with  rather  an  unusually  clever  face, 
if  features  and  color  go  to  make  up  intellect. 
His  pretty  little  cousin  said  that  he  was  t(  a 
dangerous,  naughty  man,"  and  that  that  was 
why  God  had  given  him  such  an  evil,  ugly 
face. 

His  pretty  little  cousin  was  a  spinster  of 
nearly  thirty,  with  the  well-developed  figure 
of  a  matron ;  and  her  friends  did  say  that — 
but  no  matter,  it  is  wicked  to  "telltales  out  of 
school,"  and  perhaps  her  friends  were  jealous 
and  spiteful. 

Ruth  found  the  Captain  most  charming, 
despite  his  dangerous  reputation  ;  and  forgot 
after  awhile  his  yellow,  drawn  face,  and  chang 
ing  green  eyes.  His  great  intelligence,  and 


80  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

unexplained  magnetism  fascinated  the  girl; 
and  she  hung  eagerly  on  his  words,  as  he 
talked  smoothly  on  in  a  queer  voice,  which 
had  been  spoiled,  no  doubt,  by  the  hot  climate 
of  the  East. 

Finding  that  she  was  a  sportswoman,  he 
told  her  the  most  wonderful  anecdotes  about 
sport  in  India,  China,  Japan,  and  Malay.  All 
the  time  Huth  was  beaming  in  rapt  admiration 
on  this  man  who  was  neither  young,  rich,  nor 
good-looking.  Can  anyone  explain  these  phe 
nomenal  inconsistencies  ? 

After  luncheon  Mr.  Holbourne  proposed  a 
drive  on  his  coach,  and  amid  much  bustle 
and  laughter  they  all  clambered  up  on  the 
top  of  that  vehicle  which  has  been  the  cause 
of  more  jollity  than  any  inanimate  object  I 
know. 

Waldo  Bronson  was  made  happy  by  secur 
ing  the  long  coveted  place  by  the  side  of 
pretty  little  Mrs.  John  Howes,  at  whom  he  had 
been  making  eyes  all  morning,  much  to  her 
husband's  amusement ;  for  he  made  eyes  at 
her  himself,  even  now,  after  five  years  of  "  for 
better  for  worse,"  and  could  thoroughly  un- 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  81 

derstand  what  an  irresistible  and  innocent 
coquette  she  was. 

Mildred,  Captain  Sultingham,  and  John 
Howes  were  bunched  together,  and  Will  l)un- 
ston  was  relegated  to  the  off  side  of  Mrs. 
Howes.  Mr.  Holbourne  called  out  in  his 
cheery  English  voice  to  Ruth  to  jump  up  on 
the  box  with  him. 

"  Do  you  drive  a  team  ?  '*  he  asked  her,  as 
he  stood  up  for  a  moment  to  arrange  the 
wheel  and  lead  reins,  and  adjust  his  driving- 
apron  well  around  him. 

"Oh,  yes,  a  little.  When  I  was  quite  a 
young  girl  I  once  took  a  three  weeks'  coaching 
trip  up  to  the  English  Lakes  and  got  my  hand 
well  in  then.''  , 

"It  must  have  been  awfully  jolly,  if  you 
had  congenial  spirits  with  you,"  he  remarked, 
deftly  touching  up  the  near  side  leader  under 
the  bar,  to  Ruth's  great  admiration. 

"  You  know  that  touching  up  the  leaders 
is  a  thing  I  never  can  do  well.  I  invariably 
make  a  botch  of  it  by  touching  the  wrong 
horse,  which  of  course  sets  them  all  off,"  she 
said. 


82  THE     SHADOW     OP    DESIRE. 

"  There  is  no  science  in  it,"  he  answered, 
while  over  his  face  there  stole  that  amiable 
look  of  importance  which  a  man  unconsciously 
takes  on  when  he  is  teaching  a  woman  any 
thing  about  sport.  "  You  simply  draw  the 
whip  very  quietly  over  and  under  the  horse — 
so ; "  and  Mr.  Holbourne  again  touched  up 
the  little  leader,  who  threw  up  her  head, 
snorting  at  the  insult  of  another  reminder  of 
her  duty. 

They  had  come  up  to  a  hill,  and  he  dropped 
his  hands  to  the  horses,  and  gave  them  a  gal 
loping  stage  down  it,  and  up  the  other  side  ; 
then  drew  them  in  for  a  breather. 

The  country  around  undulated  beautifully, 
and  was  unusually  green  for  that  time  of  year. 
Forest  House  was  renowned  for  its  fine  shoot 
ing.  From  the  hill  where  they  were  resting 
for  awhile,  Buth  saw  the  great  wood,  looking 
like  a  huge  army  encamped ;  and  the  broad 
fields  and  meadows,  where  birds  were  so  plen 
tiful.  "  You  must  take  Mrs.  Bronson  as  one 
of  the  guns,  day  after  to-morrow,"  said  Mil 
dred,  talking  over  the  back  of  the  seat  to  her 
husband ;  for  she  saw  the  eager  look  which 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  83 

shone  in  Ruth's  eyes  at  the  promise  of  sport 
which  all  these  covers  offered. 

"  Oh,  how  good  of  you  ! "  cried  Ruth  joy 
fully.  "  But  I'm  afraid  I  shall  be  in  the  way; 
I  hear  that  you  Englishmen  do  not  care  for 
women  to  join  you  in  your  sports." 

"  What  a  calumny  on  my  poor  country 
men  ! "  replied  Mr.  Holbourne.  "  Why,  when 
a  woman  is  really  fond  of  shooting,  she  is 
very  often  keener  than  the  men  ;  and  I  hear 
you're  a  crack  shot,  Mrs.  Bronson." 

"  She  is,  indeed,  Holbourne ; "  spoke  up 
Waldo  Bronson,  slyly  pinching  the  little  hand 
of  his  wife,  which  was  idly  lying  on  the  side. 
"  You'll  find  you'll  require  ropes  to  get  her 
out  of  the  piles  of  slaughtered  victims  which 
steadily  increase  around  her,"  he  went  on 
mischievously. 

Ruth  smiled  affectionately  back  at  her  hus 
band.  She  was  beginning  to  understand  him. 
Mrs.  John  Howes  gave  a  nervous  little  cry, 
saying:  "I  couldn't  hurt  any  living  crea 
ture,  and  I  should  weep  if  I  shot  a  dear  little 
bird  !  "  and  she  looked  up  with  her  baby  blue 
eyes  plaintively  into  Waldo  Bronson's  brown 


84  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

face.  Captain  Sultingham  asked  her  if  she 
wept  over  all  the  hearts  she  broke ;  and  her 
husband  sighed,  for  he  knew  only  too  well 
how  cruel  this  dainty  bit  of  affectation  could 
be  when  in  the  humor.  Mildred  looked  on 
with  an  expression  as  imperturbable  as  that  of 
the  Sphinx,  and  thought  her  own  thoughts 
meanwhile ;  she  did  not  approve  of  clinging, 
blue-eyed  baby- women;  they  were  all  more 
or  less  hypocrites  and  bores,  she  thought. 
But  Ruth  liked  Mrs.  Howes,  simply  because 
she  was  so  different  from  herself;  besides, 
Mrs.  Howes  was  pretty,  and  Ruth  was  artistic. 

"  Will  you  take  them  now  ?"'  said  Mr.  Hoi- 
bourne,  alluding  to  the  horses. 

"  Thank  you.  How  nice !  But  if  you  don't 
mind,  I  should  like  to  put  that  mare  in  the 
middle  bar ;  I'm  afraid  she'll  take  a  bit  of  a 
hold  going  home,  and  my  arms  are  rather  soft 
just  now.'' 

She  slipped  quickly  down,  and  attended  to 
these  details  herself ;  then  gathering  the  reins 
together  in  the  most  approved  style,  mounted 
the  box,  and  caught  her  whip  ;  and  they  were 
soon  bowling  along  homewards.  The  bars 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  85 

clinked  merrily,  arid  the  little  thoroughbred 
leaders  stepped  up  with  pleasure ;  for  they 
recognized  the  feel  of  a  woman's  hands,  and 
did  their  best  accordingly. 

John,  the  blue-eyed  Irish  coachman,  who 
was  responsible  for  many  of  the  woes  of  the 
village  beauties,  was  quite  an  artist  oA  the 
coach  horn,  and  made  the  country  ring  with 
the  lively  strains  of — well,  I  will  spare  you 
the  name  of  that  rollicking  song  and  dance 
which  even  royalty  had  on  the  brain  last  sea 
son  ;  also  "  Old  Kent  Koad,"  «  Buy  a  Broom," 
and  "  Johnny's  so  long  at  the  Fair ; "  to  the 
edification  of  the  yokels  and  the  urchins  who 
ran  along  by  the  side  of  the  road  making 
"  cart  wheels "  with  the  most  surprising 
rapidity. 

4<  I  shall  have  to  give  up  the  reins  now," 
said  Euth,  with  a  little  grimace  of  fatigue. 
"  My  arms  are  getting  so  tired,  and  I  don't 
want  to  shipwreck  you  all." 

They  were  drawing  near  the  lodge  gate, 
where  the  turn  was  difficult.  Mr.  Holbourne 
took  the  reins  from  her,  and  expressed  his  ad 
miring  surprise  that  she  had  held  out  so  long. 


86  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

"Will  you  stop  a  minute  at  the  lodge?  I 
want  to  run  in  and  see  how  the  old  man  is/' 
requested  Mildred. 

She  had  to  stoop  as  she  entered  the  lodge 
door.  The  room  was  tiny,  but  spotlessly 
clean.  Some  scarlet  geraniums  bloomed  in 
pots  on  the  ledge  of  the  latticed  window.  A 
small,  aged  woman,  scrupulously  neat,  arose 
and  made  her  a  low  curtsy. 

"  I've  come  to  inquire  about  your  husband, 
Mrs.  Hawkins,"  Mildred  said  kindly. 

"  Thank  ye,  mTdy,"  answered  the  woman. 
"'E  wus  took  wus  lawst  night,  and  the  doctor 
sez  that  there  do  be  no  'opes  fur  'im,  mTdy," 
and  the  little  woman  made  another  jerky 
curtsy.  Her  face  was  as  quiet  and  patient  as 
that  of  a  dumb  beast ;  and  she  kept  her  toil- 
worn  hands  folded  across  her  white  apron. 
Mildred  wondered  if  she  was  as  patient  as  she 
looked,  or  whether,  like  most  English  people 
of  her  class,  she  merely  assumed  that  stolid 
expression  out  of  long  habit. 

From  the  next  room  the  sick  man's  moans 
came  faintly  in  to  them. 

"  I  shall  miss  'im,  mTdy  ;  'Awkins  wuz  a 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  87 

good  man  tu  me  till  'e  took  tu  drink.  Five  and 
thirty  year,  mTdy,  makes  a  body  git  sort  o' 
use  to  each  other."  Two  heavy  tears  rolled 
down  the  still  face,  and  dropped  with  a  splash 
on  her  folded  neckerchief.  Mildred  was  fas 
cinated  as  she  watched  them  roll  down ;  for 
all  the  time  the  woman's  expression  remained 
without  the  least  change.  She  felt  a  great 
pity  for  this  lonely  old  creature,  and  arose 
nervously  as  she  heard  the  horses  clanking 
their  bits  impatiently  outside.  "  I  will  send 
you  some  more  port  wine  and  flannels  at  once, 
Mrs.  Hawkins,  and  will  come  and  see  you 
again  to-morrow."  And  she  hastily  left  the 
lodge. 

"  Thank  ye,  mTdy,"  the  woman  answered 
gratefully.  She  peered  out  into  the  winter 
twilight,  after  the  merry  coaching  party,  with 
a  dull  pain  at  her  heart,  as  memory  slowly 
tugged  at  its  strings ;  while  the  sound  of 
"  Polly  put  the  Kettle  on,  and  we'll  all  have 
Tea "  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  as  the  coach 
quickly  disappeared  around  the  bend  in  the 
park,  and  darkness  fell  on  all  around.  It 
seemed  but  yesterday  when  her  good  man  had 


88  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

sung  the  same  old  song ;  but  in  reality  it  was 
forty  years  ago. 

Since  then  many  children  had  been  born  to 
them ;  several  tiny  graves  in  the  simple 
churchyard,  just  over  the  fair  hillside,  all 
smiling  with  field  flowers,  contained  her  baby 
girls ;  and  over  the  sea  to  that  land  of  prom 
ise,  America,  her  only  boy  had  gone  to  make 
his  fortune.  She  had  not  heard  from  him  for 
a  long  time,  but  did  not  complain,  as  while 
she  waited  in  dumb,  stupid  patience  for  a  let 
ter,  she  did  not  know,  poor  thing,  that  a  fair- 
haired  English  boy  had  been  shot  in  a  brawl 
in  one  of  those  mining  towns  out  West, 
and  that  he  was  lying  buried  hardly  deep 
enough  to  keep  the  coyotes  from  scratching 
around  the  stones,  which  some  rough  but  kind 
pal  had  thrown  on  that  shallow  grave  to 
mark  the  spot.  She  did  not  know — poor 
thing — what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  that  we  do 
not  know  all.  She  turned  and  went  in,  and 
mechanically  wiped  the  moisture  from  her 
faded  eyes,  as  a  feeble  complaint  from  the 
sufferer  reached  her  ears. 

An  owl  hooted  in  the  turret  of  the  lodge, 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  89 

and  the  sparrows  stirred  uneasily    in   their 

nests  in  the  ivy  under  the  eaves. 

#•  #  #  #  *  * 

"  Clear  the  way ! *'  rang  out  triumphantly 
from  the  horn,  as  the  coach  drew  up  rapidly 
with  much  jolly  jingling  at  the  entrance  of 
Forest  House.  They  all  crowded  into  the 
library  rosy  with  the  cold  air,  and  famishing 
for  tea.  A  bright  coal  and  wood  fire  was 
blazing  in  the  large  fireplace.  Ruth  threw 
open  her  coat,  and  lay  back  in  a  big  chair,  with  a 
soft  sigh  of  comfort,  as  the  warmth  and  bright 
ness  of  the  room,  and  the  smell  of  the  tea, 
permeated  her  senses. 

A  large  bay  window  opened  out  on  to  the 
graveled  terrace,  and  beyond  stretched  the 
Italian  garden  and  broad  lawn,  skirted  here 
and  there  by  firs,  sturdy  winter  greens,  and 
laurels,  which  in  the  half-light  of  a  Novem 
ber  evening  appeared  to  Ruth's  dreamy  fancy 
like  faithful  crouching  beasts,  protecting  the 
house  against  the  unknown  mysteries  of  the 
wilderness  and  the  shadowy  park. 

Outside  the  window  clamored  five  enthusi 
astic  beggars,  pawing  and  whining  for  admit- 


00  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

tance.  Mr.  Holbourne  unfastened  the  swinging 
glass  doors  ;  and  they  came  bounding  in,  wag 
ging  their  tails  furiously.  Trap,  one  of  the 
Irish  terriers,  with  wonderful  brown,  gentle 
eyes,  looked  as  though  he  would  rather  pray 
than  do  almost  anything  else ;  but  in  reality 
he  was  the  most  hardened  rascal  of  them  all. 
He  would  stop  with  you  so  long  as  you  threw 
sticks  and  stones  for  his  amusement,  or  took 
him  rabbitting  or  ratting ;  but  if  you  happened 
to  get  tired  after  long  hours  of  assiduous  at 
tention,  he  would  calmly  trot  off,  to  make  the 
lives  of  the  stable  cats,  or  anything  else  run 
ning,  crawling,  or  flying,  not  worth  the  living; 
and  leave  you  with  a  sheepish,  inconsequential 
suspicion  that  you  were  a  failure,  and  not 
worth  your  salt. 

Chip,  his  son,  was  a  most  original  little 
trump.  He  was  very  inquisitive  and  rompish, 
and  if  you  scolded  him  for  upsetting  your  tea 
all  over  your  favorite  gown,  he  would  insist 
upon  flopping  his  dirty  little  paw  in  your  hand 
to  be  shaken,  with  an  air  which  said  as  plain 
as  words,  "Oh,  that's  all  right,  old  man. 
"What's  the  use  of  being  huffy  with  a  fel- 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  91 

low  ? '*  The  blarney  in  his  ugly  little  face 
appealed  to  you,  and  you  found  yourself 
laughing  and  giving  him  your  choicest  bit  of 
buttered  muffin,  in  spite  of  his  delinquency. 
The  other  was  a  big  black  retriever  called 
Senga,  that  both  of  the  terriers  adored.  Their 
mistress  kept  them  up  to  their  paces  in  the 
most  approved  way.  Trap  and  Chip  under 
stood  only  too  well  the  pangs  of  jealousy  in 
all  its  variations.  The  other  two  were  fox 
hound  puppies  that  Mildred  walked,  "Lan 
cer  ''  and  "  Landsman  "  by  name.  There  is 
something  about  a  fox-hound  puppy  that  is 
really  irresistible.  He  is  so  clumsy,  and  his 
feet  look  as  though  he  had  borrowed  them  to 
leave  around  in  people's  way.  His  coat  is 
softer  and  more  silky  than  a  child's  hair,  and 
his  eyes  gaze  at  you  with  such  sweet,  melan 
choly  trust,  as  he  awkwardly  and  confidingly 
puts  his  head  in  your  lap  to  be  petted.  Then 
he  has  such  a  cute  way  of  walking  away  with 
your  pet  cushion,  that  you  have  spent  days  in 
embroidering,  to  try  his  new  teeth  on  it ;  or 
the  tea  cosy,  or  your  gloves,  hats,  storm- 
shoes — in  fact,  any  blessed  thing  that  he  may 


93  THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IJRE. 

spy  in  the  hall,  room,  stables,  or  gardens,  if  it 
happens  to  suit  his  mischievous,  meddlesome 
fancy.  And  yet  we  love  these  little  wretches, 
and  take  on  a  fresh  couple  every  year,  as  fast 
as  the  huntsman  sends  for  the  youngsters  to 
begin  their  education. 

"  Thank  you,'5  said  Ruth,  smiling  up  into 
"Will  Dunston's  gloomy  eyes,  as  he  handed  her 
another  cup  of  tea.  "  What  a  famous  institu 
tion  afternoon  tea  is !" 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  thrown 
open,  and  Bonner,  the  butler,  inflated  his 
chest  and  announced  in  his  most  pomp 
ous  way,  "Mrs.  Rollins;"  whereon  a  short, 
cobby,  fussy,  red-faced  little  woman  bustled 
in.  She  wore  a  long,  impossible-look 
ing  red  cloak ;  and  her  sleek  dark  hair  was 
parted  in  the  centre,  plastered  flat  down 
on  either  side,  and  drawn  properly  behind  her 
ears  in  that  prim  way  that  many  English  ma 
trons  adopt.  Perched  severely  on  the  top  of 
this  correct  coiffure  was  a  prosperous-looking 
black  lace  bonnet  (warranted  to  keep  off  neu 
ralgic  attacks  and  all  sorts  of  colds),  gar 
landed  with  arrogant  fat  roses  of  a  purplish- 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  93 

red  color,  which  harmonized  perfectly  with 
the  good  lady's  nose.  She  advanced  gushingly 
to  Mildred.  "  Ah,  my  dear  Mrs.  Holbourne ! 
So  glad  to  find  you  at  home.  I'm  half  frozen. 
Yes.  Of  course  I'll  take  some  tea,"  as  Mrs. 
Holbourne  handed  her  a  cup.  u  Thanks ;  lots 
of  sugar,  please.  There,  that'll  do,  thanks.'' 

"  Have  a  wee  drap  o'  suthin'  in  it,"  sug 
gested  Captain  Sultingham,  who  had  been  in 
Scotland  a  great  deal,  offering  her  a  glass  of 
fine  old  whiskey. 

"  Why,  dear  me,  how  dreadful.  I  can't  im 
agine  a  woman  indulging  in  such  demoraliz 
ing  customs!"  and  she  sniffed,  and  glared 
around  disapprovingly  at  the  guilty  party. 

Ruth  and  Mrs.  Howes  had  just  taken  some 
brandy  in  their  tea  through  the  advice  of 
their  hospitable  host,  who  had  the  happy  fac 
ulty  of  making  life  smooth  for  his  friends. 
They  were  chilled  from  the  long  drive,  and 
found  that  it  soon  restored  their  circulation  ; 
but  when  Mrs.  Rollins  put  such  stress  on  the 
wickedness  of  that  indulgence,  they  both  felt 
very  small  and  crushed.  Mildred  glanced  up 
sharply,  and  said  with  sweetness,  casting  a 


94  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

meaning  glance  at  the  dear  lady's  nose,  "I 
can  very  well  understand  why  you  should  be 
afraid  to  indulge  in  such  things,  Mrs.  Rol 
lins  !"  That  irrepressible  person  talked  volu 
bly  on,  not  noticing  the  insinuation,  although 
there  was  a  subdued  titter  around  the  room 
from  the  others. 

"  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Howes,  I  hear  you  are 
going  to  run  off  to  Paris,  and  leave  your  ami 
able  husband  alone  as  usual  to  keep  house.  It 
must  be  very  useful  to  some  people  to  have 
such  sweet-tempered  husbands !" 

Pretty  little  Mrs.  Howes,  who  was  sitting 
poised  on  the  arm  of  Ruth's  chair,  colored 
hotly,  and  looked  rather  frightened  when  the 
bomb  was  hurled  at  her  by  this  coarse,  evil- 
minded  woman.  "I — I  go  over  twice  a  year," 
she  replied  timidly,  "to  order  my  gowns." 

"  Oh,  do  you  ?  Well,  for  my  part,  I  think 
English  things  good  enough  for  me  or  any 
body,  and  always  believe  in  encouraging  home 
industries.  Can  I  trouble  you  to  ring  for  my 
carriage?"  she  asked,  turning  to  Mr.  Hoi- 
bourne,  who  obeyed  her  with  alacrity.  "I 
must  be  going ;  Mr.  Rollins  is  getting  so  ex- 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRTC.  95 

acting  now  that  his  gout  is  worse ;  and  isn't 
at  all  pleased  if  I  stay  away  more  than  an 
hour  or  two  from  him.'7  Her  hearers  looked 
at  each  other  incredulous  and  astonished. 
"  Ah,  thanks !''  as  Bonner  announced  her  car 
riage,  and  Mr.  Holbourne  helped  her  on  with 
her  wonderful  red  cloak.  "  Good-bye,  my 
dear;  I  shall  look  out  for  you  at  Lady  Sal- 
tonbrough's  ball  to-morrow  night ;  I  suppose 
you'll  look  ravishing.  You  American  women 
always  eclipse  us.  Good-bye,  good-bye !"  and 
she  stormed  out  like  a  cyclone,  talking  loudly 
all  the  way  to  the  hall  door. 

When  she  had  gone,  dead  silence  reigned  in 
the  room  for  awhile ;  but  it  was  suddenly  broken 
by  poor  little  Mrs.  Howes  jumping  up  and  walk 
ing  swiftly  to  and  fro.  "  I  hate  that  woman. 
She  hasn't  the  slightest  spark  of  humanity  in 
her,  and  always  persecutes  me  in  the  most  un 
provoked  and  shameless  way — way'' — and 
thereupon  she  promptly  went  into  violent 
hysterics,  and  was  led  up  to  her  room  by  her 
husband,  who  soothed  and  calmed  her  until 
she  was  quite  her  smiling  self  again. 

John  Howes  worshiped  his  wife,  and  consid- 


96  THE     SHADOW    OF    DESIRE. 

ered  everything  she  did  perfection.  He  was  so 
full  of  charming  tact,  and  was  such  a  lovable 
and  sympathetic  companion,  that  she  actually 
preferred  his  society  to  anyone's,  a  fact  for 
which  the  fashionable,  worldly  little  creature 
was  not  given  credit.  During  his  bachelor 
days  he  had  kept  a  hunting  box  at  Market 
Harboro',  and  been  one  of  the  hardest  riders 
in  the  Shires ;  but  since  his  marriage  he  had 
given  it  all  up.  His  friends  marveled  much 
at  this,  but  they  never  found  out  that  the  sac 
rifice  was  made  because  he  wished  to  have 
more  money  with  which  to  pamper  his  lovely 
wife.  Neither  one  of  them  suspected,  though, 
that  he  was  slowly  and  surely  changing  her 
weak  character  into  a  broader  and  nobler  one. 
Often  she  would  blush  and  hesitate  when  she 
had  a  capricious  or  foolish  wish,  because  she 
knew  it  would  grieve  the  man  who  loved  her, 
and  yet  who  never  begged  for  more  than  she 
offered.  Ah,  yes !  John  Howes  was  a  clever 
man — and  a  hero  too. 

"  She's  gone,  a  manifest  serpent  by  her  sting ! " 

MH.TOK. 


CHAPTER    YII. 

"  Desire  is  a  respite  from  love,  and  the  flesh 
Not  the  heart  is  her  fuel." 

SWINBUBNE. 

MAKTHA  fastened  a  string  of  pearls  around 
her  mistress*  throat,  and  gave  one  or  two  fin 
ishing  touches  to  her  hair — hair  which  as 
Ruth  grew  older  took  on  deeper  tints  of  red 
brown.  She  herself  pinned  a  bunch  of  pale 
pink  roses  on  her  bodice,  and  then  walked 
quickly  out  down  the  corridor. 

"  Don't  prink  so  much,  dearie,  you'll  cut  us 
all  out,"  she  called  cheerily  to  her  husband  as 
she  tapped  with  her  fan  on  passing  his  door. 

ts  Are  you  dressed  already  ?  Why,  I'm  just 
having  my  tub!"  answered  a  muffled  voice 
from  the  depths  of  the  dressing  room. 

(( Don't  hurry,  lots  of  time !  "  she  replied, 
continuing  on  her  way.  Her  train  made  a  soft 
swishing  sound,  as  she  held  her  breath  on 
coming  around  by  the  corner  of  the  haunted 


98  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

wing.  Then  she  sped  down  the  winding 
stairs  of  the  last  turret,  pursued  by  a  childish 
fear,  which  made  her  feel  as  though  each 
group  of  armor,  each  shadowy  spot,  contained 
a  gruesome  something  which  would  snatch  at 
her  gown.  Who  has  not  experienced  that 
same  uncanny  fear  on  trying  to  find  the  way 
down  stairs  in  an  old  country  house,  when 
the  servants  are  busy  far  away  in  the  depths 
of  the  offices,  and  everyone  is  dressing? 

It  was  a  relief  to  Ruth  to  arrive  safely  in  the 
drawing-room,  which  she  found  quite  de 
serted.  She  settled  herself  cosily  beside  a 
lamp,  whose  light  shone  subdued  by  a  corn- 
colored  silk  shade;  and  opened  a  copy  of 
Omar  Khayydm,  that  she  found  lying  on  a 
table  near. 

"  But  still  a  Ruby  kindles  in  the  Vine, 
And  many  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows  " 

she  read ;  and  turning  over  the  leaves  further 
on: 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled  ; 
That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  her  Lap,  from  some  once  lovely  Head. " 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DKBIRK.  99 

Slowly  she  became  conscious  of  voices  pro 
ceeding  from  the  music-room,  accompanied  by 
the  low,  plaintive  strains  of  that  pathetic  air, 
"Ye  Banks  and  Braes  of  Bonnie  Doon.'' 
Glancing  up,  she  saw  through  the  double 
door,  which  was  wide  open,  Mildred,  seated 
at  the  piano,  playing  softly,  and  at  the  same 
time  talking  rapidly  under  her  breath  to 
Will  Dunston,  who  was  leaning  on  the 
mantelpiece,  gazing  with  a  moody  pale 
face  down  at  the  burning  logs.  The  slouch 
and  droop  of  his  giant  form  showed  de 
spondency  and  deadly  indifference.  He 
turned  and  selected  a  white  flower  from  a 
glass  on  a  stand  near,  pinned  it  with  slow 
deliberation  in  his  coat,  then  assumed  his 
position  by  the  mantelpiece  with  a  half 
yawn. 

Mildred  left  the  piano  and  went  swiftly 
over  to  him,  her  dark  angry  face  pale  with 
agony.  "  Will !  you  must,  you  shall  listen  to 
me  !  Either  you  take  me  away  with  you  for 
ever,  and  end  this  miserable  farce,  or — or 
leave  me  ;  for  I  loathe  myself,  and — all  this 
hypocrisy."  She  looked  up  into  his  averted 


100  THE     SHADOW     OP     DE3TRE. 

face,  with  an  intensity  which  told  he  held  the 
key  of  life  and  death  for  her. 

Huth  noticed — as  one  will  small  things  in 
concentrated  moments — that  Mildred  was 
nearly  as  tall  as  "Will  Dunston,  and  that  her 
face  was  stronger  and  more  severe  than  his  ; 
although  her  slim  figure  bent  and  swayed  in 
the  storm  of  her  passionate  trouble. 

At  that  moment  Captain  Sultingham  and 
Waldo  Bronson  walked  into  the  drawing-room 
together,  followed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howes, 
Mr.  Holbourne,  and  the  other  guests.  People 
began  to  arrive  rapidly.  Bonner  announced 
"The  Earl  and  Countess  of  Carron."  The 
Earl  was  a  sandy-haired  Irishman,  with  well- 
developed  sporting  proclivities,  a  mania  for 
tennis — and  another  mania  for  snubbing  his 
wife.  She  —  the  Countess  —  was  a  white- 
haired,  keen-eyed,  handsome  woman ;  her 
mania  was  for  church  work,  and  for  selling 
bad  copies  of  the  old  masters  (painted  by  an 
impecunious  female  relative  in  Rome)  to  her 
friends,  particularly  to  the  nouveaux  riches 
among  them,  knowing  of  course  the  weakness 
these  latter  have  for  cultivating  rich  country 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DBSIHE.  101 

nobodies,  who  have  been  stupid  enough  to 
marry  a  little  lord,  and  then  let  him  squander 
their  fortunes. 

So  mj  Lady  made  them  all  pay  for  the  rare 
honor  of  her  acquaintance  accordingly. 

"  The  Countess  of  Wainlo,  Lady  Eva  Wainlo, 
and  Lady  Florence  Wainlo."  The  Countess  of 
Wainlo  was  a  noble,  sweet-faced  woman.  Her 
husband  had  been  most  cruelly  massacred  in 
an  Indian  rebellion.  Lady  Eva  and  Lady 
Florence  were  most  interesting,  and  very  fond 
of  sport. 

"  The  Hon.  Mrs.  Agilton  Bourne,  and  Mr. 
Peggy."  Here  a  huge,  Juno-like  creature, 
with  a  pretty,  insipid  pink  face,  came  gam 
bolling,  as  it  were,  across  the  room,  followed 
by  her  cavalier. 

<{  I'm  so  sorry  my  husband  couldn't  come," 
she  giggled.  "  But  he  left  his  dress  clothes  at 
White's,  so  I've  brought  Mr.  Peggy  as  proxy." 
She  looked  down  at  Mildred  as  she  spoke, 
with  a  foolish  smirk  on  her  beautiful  face. 
Ruth  was  sorry  that  she  had  opened  her 
mouth,  and  thus  destroyed  the  illusion  pro 
duced  by  her  effective  appearance. 


102  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Claude  Finche,  a  promising  young  writer, 
who  had  been  very  much  lionized  the  last 
season  in  London,  looked  rather  disappointed 
with  Mrs.  Bourne  all  through  dinner,  as  she 
lisped  on  inanely.  He  confided  to  his  most 
intimate  friend,  who  of  course  told  every  one 
else,  that  he  had  a  wild  desire  to  put  the 
pretty  lady  on  a  pedestal— only  there  was 
none  colossal  enough  to  hold  her — and  bom 
bard  her  with  sugar-plums,  so  she  would  be 
too  busy  to  talk.  Some  men  are  very  naughty 
and  unreasonable  even  with  professional  beau 
ties,  sometimes.  They  really  expect  some 
thing  else — something  more  intellectually 
gratifying  than  the  pout  of  lovely  lips,  and 
the  shine  of  ox-eyes;  but  how  should  such 
greed  not  go  unrewarded ! 

The  guests  continued  to  arrive.  The  grand 
banquet  hall,  with  its  groined  roof,  oak  carv 
ings,  and  hundreds  of  wax  candles,  made  a 
most  magnificent  picture.  High  up,  at  the 
end  of  the  room,  was  the  minstrels'  gallery ; 
and  a  band  of  stringed  instruments  played  all 
through  dinner. 

When  the  ladies  retired  to  the  drawing- 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIKE.  103 

room,  for  coffee  and  gossip,  Ruth  was  very 
much  amused  at  the  antics  of  Mrs.  Mulle,  the 
daughter  of  a  rich  Scotch  manufacturer.  She 
was  notorious  for  her  monkey  face,  pretty 
gowns,  and  the  numerous  gangs  of  men  who 
would  follow  her  around  from  one  country 
house  to  another.  Her  special  admirer  was  a 
fair-haired,  handsome  young  captain,  who  had 
done  brave  service  in  India  for  his  Queen.  He 
was  an  all-round  good  sportsman — a  rare  man 
to  hounds,  and  a  charming  fellow  altogether. 
It  was  whispered  that  there  had  once  been 
talk  of  a  marriage  between  Mrs.  Mulle  and 
himself  a  few  years  before,  when  she  was  a 
shrewd,  ambitious  lassie,  and  he  the  sort  of 
dare-devil  that  most  doting  fathers  adore. 
But  unfortunately  for  the  lassie,  the  dare 
devil's  father  would  not  consent  to  such 
a  mesalliance;  so  she  thereupon  married 
a  very  credulous  young  squire,  who  found 
it  necessary  to  wear  the  strong  eye-glasses 
proffered  by  his  dear  friends ;  and  even 
then  he  did  not  see  as  well  as  he  should 
have  done,  considering  his  age.  But  per 
haps  his  wife  encouraged  a  long  fringe  over 


104  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

his  eyes — which  made  them  naturally  very 
weak. 

She  had  a  most  delicious  way  of  speaking 
about  her  sweetest  friend,  Lady  Glendor — 
and  Ruth  was  rather  astonished  when  she  met 
Lady  Glendor  a  few  days  after  that,  and 
mentioned  Mrs.  Mulle. 

"  Oh,  you  mean  that  very  enterprising 
person  from  Scotland.  I've  never  seen  her 
but  once  or  twice  to  my  recollection,  and 
that  was  at  church  fairs,  or  garden  parties 
perhaps." 

Lady  Glendor  was  not  only  a  very  beauti 
ful  woman,  but  a  fascinating  and  lovable  one. 
Her  nearest  relative  was  heir  to  one  of  the 
most  historical  castles  in  Scotland.  He  lived 
very  mysteriously  and  quietly ;  people  said 
that  it  was  because  he  had  been  told  the  secret 
of  his  illustrious  family,  a  short  time  before, 
when  he  came  of  age,  just  as  all  the  eldest 
sons  had  been  told  before  him. 

Some  said  that  a  monster  had  been  born  in 
the  family  centuries  before,  and  that  it  was 
still  living,  and  confined  in  one  of  the  wings 
of  the  castle,  which  overlooked  the  sea.  The 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  105 

monster  was  supposed  to  be  guarded  by  two 
old  family  servants. 

Several  of  the  country  people  and  fisher 
men  around  declared  that  they  had  heard  it 
beat  at  the  bars  of  the  windows,  and  howl 
most  frantically,  causing  them  to  flee  in  terror. 
Some  said  that  it  was  Scotch  whiskey ;  while 
others  averred  that  it  was  a  giant  monstrosity 
with  the  face  of  a  toad.  But  nothing  was 
ever  definitely  found  out ;  only  the  eldest  son 
was  told  the  secret  on  reaching  his  majority, 
and  was  sworn  to  secrecy.  So,  of  course,  Lady 
Glendor  enjoyed  great  distinction,  being  con 
nected  with  such  an  aristocratic  family  skele 
ton. 

At  eleven  o'clock  about  fifty  guests  ar 
rived  from  the  neighboring  country  houses. 
They  all  repaired  to  the  long  picture  gallery, 
where  they  danced  until  about  two,  and  then 
drove  home  again,  a  long  way,  through  the 
bitter  cold — not  an  unusual  thing  for  English 
people  to  do.  Perhaps  it  is  their  total  disre 
gard  of  weather  which  makes  them  so  delight 
fully  hardy. 

Everyone  had  gone  up  to  bed ;  but  Ruth  stayed 


106  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

behind  for  a  moment  to  look  for  her  fan, 
which  she  had  mislaid.  The  half-lighted 
rooms  had  a  ghostly  echo  through  them,  as  she 
tiptoed  about  over  the  waxed  floor.  The  silence 
seemed  doubly  intense  in  contrast  to  the  music 
and  laughter  of  so  short  a  time  before. 

The  candles  twinkled  faintly,  and  one  or 
two  flared  up  and  died  out ;  the  air  was  heavy 
with  the  drooping  flowers.  While  searching 
for  her  fan,  she  was  compelled  to  look  up,  al 
most  against  her  will ;  and  on  doing  so  she 
encountered  the  eyes  of  Will  Dunston,  who 
was  standing  in  the  door  of  the  picture  gal 
lery  watching  her  every  movement. 

"  Can  I  help  you  ?"  he  asked  walking  over 
to  her. 

"  Thank  you "  she  answered  nervously. 
"I've  left  my  fan  about  somewhere."  He 
followed  her  dumbly,  with  his  great  eyes  bent 
on  her  all  the  while. 

She  trembled  with  a  nervous  fear,  and  a 
foreboding  of  future  evil  came  over  her. 
Throwing  her  head  back  with  an  angry  laugh 
at  such  morbid  presentiments,  she  looked  him 
straight  in  the  face.  Of  late  she  had  felt 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  107 

the  subtle  animal  magnetism  of  this  man,  and 
had  resented  it ;  but  somehow  when  they  had 
been  waltzing  that  night,  the  warmth  of  his 
breath  on  her  hair,  the  spell  of  the  music,  and 
the  mood  of  the  moment,  had  intoxicated  her. 
When  they  glided  to  a  corner  of  the  room, 
where  sheltering  palms  clustered  thick,  she 
sank  in  his  arms  breathless  and  panting.  He 
crushed  her  to  him,  and  stooping  kissed  her 
full  on  the  mouth.  A  moment  after  she 
struggled  away  from  him,  and  ran  along 
through  the  corridor,  and  back  to  where  the 
dancers  were  resting,  disgusted  with  herself, 
loathing  herself  for  such  insanity.  That  mad 
act  came  back  to  her  now,  making  her  tingle 
with  shame;  she  noticed,  as  she  had  never 
done  before,  his  voluptuous,  heavy  red  mouth, 
with  its  sensuous  curves.  She  hated  and  de 
sired  at  the  same  time.  The  blood  crept  up  to 
her  slender  throat  and  spread  in  a  rosy  glow 
over  her  defiant,  frightened  face. 

Will  Dunston  caught  his  breath  fiercely, 
trying  to  control  himself.  "  Ah,  Euth,  what 
have  you  done  to  me  ?  "  he  whispered,  "  I  am 
mad,  for  I  love  you,  love  you  ! '' 


1CS  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

They  did  not  move  from  their  positions,  but 
stood  as  though  turned  to  stone  ;  he,  with  his 
arms  held  out  longingly  towards  her,  and  she 
gazing  at  him  in  fascination,  with  a  half -mock 
ing  smile  on  her  lips.  "  How  dare  you ! ''  she 
murmured,  drawing  a  deep  breath.  "How 
dare  you ! " 

"How  dare  I?  You!  You  say  that  to 
me,  you,  who  have  made  these  last  few  days 
sweeter  to  me  than  Heaven  can  be !  How 
dare  I  ?  Why,  I  would  dare  anything  for  you; 
I  would  even  dare  kill  you,  if  I  were  so  dis 
posed.  You  know  that  you  have  led  me  on. 
Ah,  God !  how  sweet  you  are  !  " 

Before  she  could  cry  out,  or  make  any 
resistance,  he  had  caught  her  in  his  arms 
again,  and  with  one  hand  on  her  throat, 
held  her  head  back.  She  closed  her  eyes 
almost  fainting,  for  he  was  kissing  her 
again.  His  thick  sensuous  lips  were  pressed 
hard  against  her  delicate  ones.  He  was 
kissing  her  eyes,  her  hair,  her  bare  pink 
arms ;  he  was  kissing  her  feet  where  the 
flesh  shone  fair  through  the  open  work  of 
the  silk  stockings.  She  had  never  dreamed  of 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE  109 

such  kisses  before,  and  she  gave  back  kisses 
hot  and  fast,  until  her  heart  almost  ceased  to 
beat,  and  she  lay  like  a  dead  thing,  over 
whelmed  by  this  new  and  strange  sensation. 

The  winter  moon,  sailing  high,  cast  a  few 
pale  rays  through  the  stained  glass  windows, 
over  the  dark  form  of  Will  Dunston.  Some 
where  down  in  the  depths  of  the  park  the 
cries  of  the  restless  deer  echoed  pitifully 
through  the  night,  and  the  perfume  of  the 
jasmine  filled  the  room  like  a  reproach,  reach 
ing  the  fast  fading  senses  of  Ruth  as  she  lay 
in  the  arms  of  Mildred's  lover.  With  almost 
superhuman  effort,  she  wrenched  herself  free 
from  his  embrace,  and  ran  along  the  halls, 
upstairs,  and  to  her  room,  locking  the  door 
quickly  with  trembling  fingers,  while  her  heart 
beat  fast. 

Throwing  herself  face  downward  on  the  rug 
before  the  fire,  she  cried  long  and  bitterly. 
Martha,  who  had  been  fast  asleep  in  a  big 
chair  in  the  dressing-room,  was  awakened 
by  the  intense  cold  of  early  morning.  A 
stream  of  light,  shining  through  the  window, 
fell  across  her  face,  and  brought  out  in  fine 


110  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

relief  all  its  brown  color.  She  started  up, 
stretching  her  arms  and  shivering;  walked 
into  her  mistress'  bedroom,  where  she  stumbled 
over  the  prostrate  form  on  the  rug,  and  ut 
tered  a  smothered  cry  of  terror. 

Martha  was  too  well  trained  to  ask  questions ; 
but  on  this  occasion  she  was  sorely  tempted 
to  do  so.  Quickly  and  deftly  unlacing  Euth's 
gown,  she  soon  had  her  tucked  up  comfortably 
in  bed.  Then,  with  all  the  sleep  gone  out  of 
her  eyes,  she  made  her  way  to  her  own  room, 
distracted  by  many  uneasy  wonderings. 

"  Yet  nathemore  is  that  fair  beauty's  blame, 
But  theirs  that  do  abuse  it  unto  ill." 

SPENSER. 


CHAPTER   YIII. 

*'  Alas,  how  easily  things  go  wrong  ! 

A  sigh  too  much,  or  a  kiss  too  long, 

And  there  follows  a  mist  and  a  weeping  rain, 

And  life  is  never  the  same  again." 

GEOKGE  MACDONALD. 

BUTH,  looking  very  frail  and  white,  was 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  which  fre 
quently  follows  strong  emotion.  As  Martha 
stood  by  her  bedside  the  next  morning  to 
awaken  her,  she  noticed  that  her  mistress  had 
grown  thin.  Deep  purple  shadows  made  her 
eye-lashes  appear  longer  and  blacker  than 
usual,  and  her  lips  were  too  red  and  dry  for 
health.  The  faithful  negress  turned  softly  to 
go,  and  leave  her  mistress  to  sleep  her  sleep  out ; 
but  Euth  first  stirred  uneasily,  and  then  sud 
denly  sat  up  in  bed,  with  a  startled  cry.  She 
stared  for  a  moment  after  rubbing  her  sleepy 
eyes.  "  Ah,  it's  you  ?  I — I  thought  it  was — 


112  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

I've  had  a  bad  dream,''  she  continued,  collect 
ing  her  drowsy  senses,  as  she  took  her  cup  of 
tea  from  the  maid's  hand,  and  swallowed  it 
thirstily. 

"  What  o'clock  is  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Ha'f  pas'  ten,  Missie,  and  your  baf ' a  quite 
ready." 

Euth  slid  out  of  bed,  and  slipped  her  feet 
into  a  pair  of  mules.  Her  little  bare  heela 
went  pit-a-pat  as  she  walked  across  the  rug  to 
the  window.  Drawing  the  curtain  aside,  she 
looked  out  over  the  park,  and  down  into  the 
courtyard.  How  glorious  the  clear,  cold  day 
was !  Groups  of  beaters,  with  the  head  game 
keeper,  Darley,  his  son,  and  their  men,  were 
gathered  together,  and  several  whining  re 
trievers  were  tugging  impatiently  at  their 
leashes. 

Mr.  Holbourne  was  examining  his  guns; 
and  six  guests  stood  near,  waiting  to  go  to  the 
covers.  Will  Dunston  strolled  through  the 
big  gate  at  that  moment,  and  going  up  to  one 
of  the  men  asked  for  a  light  for  his  cigar. 
Ruth  noticed  with  pleasure  that  the  man  was 
Jack  Carey.  She  then  remembered  that  he 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  113 

had  been  expected  to  arrive  that  morning 
from  Scotland. 

Both  the  men  looked  up  at  the  window  at 
the  same  moment,  and  caught  sight  of  her 
before  she  could  duck  her  head.  She  smiled 
down  in  her  sweet,  brilliant  way  at  both  of 
them;  and  they  each  seemed  to  take  a  sole 
and  personal  pleasure  in  that  smile.  Rapidly 
donning  her  shooting  costume  she  descended 
the  stairs,  and  in  a  state  of  some  excitement 
reached  the  morning  room,  where  she  found 
Jack  Carey  waiting  for  her. 

"They  have  all  gone,  it  was  getting  so 
late,"  he  said,  "  so  I've  stayed  behind  to  see 
that  you  get  your  breakfast,  and  to  conduct 
you  to  the  drive.''  "While  he  was  talking  he 
was  pouring  out  her  coffee,  and  putting  several 
dainty  bits  on  her  plate. 

"  I  see  that  you  haven't  forgotten  the  art  of 
spoiling  me,  Jack!"  and  she  smiled  at  him 
over  the  rim  of  her  cup. 

"  How  gay  and  happy  he  is,"  she  thought. 
"And  he  looks  much  stronger  and  sturdier 
than  he  did  last  year." 

Catching  up   their  guns,  they  both  made 


114  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

their  way  down  the  long  avenue,  by  the  lake, 
then  through  some  gorse-land,  fields,  and  a 
small  wood.  The  frosty  earth  crunched  under 
their  feet.  The  trees  and  leaves  seemed  to  be 
clad  in  fairy  crystal  for  some  grand  fete  got 
up  by  the  nymphs  of  the  forest.  Each  blade 
of  grass  had  a  silvery  network  about  it,  and 
the  tufts  of  moss  and  clumps  of  bracken  were 
draped  in  robes  of  fine  frost-lace. 

The  sky  was  a  poem,  with  its  snowy  clouds 
drifting  about  idly,  as  though  waiting  for  the 
signal  to  give  way,  like  yachts  I  have  seen  in 
warm  blue  southern  waters  on  a  regatta  day. 

Jack  vaulted  a  fence  leading  into  the  big 
wood,  and  Ruth  scrambled  over,  woman  fash 
ion,  catching  the  leather  hem  of  her  skirt  in  a 
jag,  and  almost  dropping  her  gun  in  her  em 
barrassment.  Jack  caught  the  weapon  in 
time  and  disentangled  her  amid  much  laugh 
ter.  Often  after  that  incident  he  thrilled  at  the 
memory  of  just  a  glimpse  he  had  caught  of  a 
natty  little  pair  of  green  trousers,  dangling 
under  an  imprisoned  skirt  on  the  other  side  of 
a  fence  that  winter's  day. 

They  both  swung  along  through  the  strong, 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  115 

thick  brush-wood,  then  down  the  long  rides 
left  and  right ;  but  never  a  sound  of  the  beat 
ers  or  guns  did  they  hear.  Ruth  became  sud 
denly  aware  that  they  had  lost  their  way  in  the 
big  wood,  a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  as  it  would 
take  them  hours,  perhaps,  before  they  would 
meet  anyone,  or  find  a  path  back  into  the 
park. 

Suddenly  the  faint  blue  smoke  of  a  fire  was 
seen  curling  above  the  bracken  not  far  away. 
On  approaching  they  discovered  a  wood-cutter, 
sitting  on  a  log,  leisurely  eating  bread  and 
cheese.  He  gazed  stupidly  at  them,  when 
Jack  Carey  asked — "  Where  are  the  guns,  my 
good  man  ?"  The  wood-cutter  slowly  took  a 
long  drink  out  of  a  tin  pail  and  wiped  his  lips 
on  the  back  of  his  sleeve. 

"  They  be  over  the  way,  sir,"  he  answered, 
jerking  a  thumb  over  his  right  shoulder  in 
the  direction  of  Carlton's  cover.  Ruth  led 
the  way  by  a  short  cut  through  the  trees,  in 
stead  of  keeping  to  the  middle  ride,  and  out 
of  danger  of  the  guns. 

The  sound  of  the  beaters — swash,  swish, 
whack — now  came  echoing  to  them  as  they 


116  THE     SHADOW     OP     DE8IRE. 

hurried  along.  Ping,  bang,  bang !  And  the 
shot  whistled  by  the  side  of  Jack  Carey's 
head.  He  turned  very  pale,  and  dropped  on 
his  knees  for  a  second,  in  the  fern,  drawing 
Ruth  down  with  him. 

"  Stay  well  behind  me,  and  run  low  !  "  he 
said  hoarsely,  "and  perhaps  we'll  pass  all  right ; 
but — but  we  are  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
guns."  His  eyes  were  blazing  with  suppressed 
excitement.  They  rushed  ahead  like  startled 
deer,  while  their  hearts  almost  ceased  to  beat, 
when  again  the  shot  whistled  over  them.  A 
few  yards  more,  and  they  stood  with  the  line. 
Colonel  Dalton,  one  of  the  guests,  looked 
quite  astonished  at  such  a  venturesome  mode 
of  arrival,  and  began  to  chaff  about  people 
who  shun  sport  on  cold  winter  mornings. 
The  Colonel  was  a  very  tall,  handsome  man, 
every  inch  a  soldier  in  appearance,  as  well  as 
at  heart.  He  was  a  retired  Indian  officer,  and 
held  the  honorable  post  of  Chief  Sheriff  in  an 
adjoining  county.  The  ladies  all  had  a 
"  sneaking  regard  "  for  the  Colonel,  and  many 
a  flower  was  pinned  in  his  buttonhole  by  fair, 
fond  fingers.  He  was  a  fine  shot,  and  was  much 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  117 

in  demand  at  most  of  the  county  shooting 
parties. 

Darley,  the  head  keeper,  looked  quite  pic 
turesque,  standing  at  the  end  of  the  line,  in 
his  rough,  brown  corduroys.  He  gave  Ruth 
and  Jack  Carey  two  of  the  best  places:  an 
odd  thing  to  do,  for  they  were  very  late ;  but 
Darley  was  not  averse  to  his  own  interest. 
The  Colonel  shrewdly  guessed  that  Darley 
had  been  "  sugared  "  before  they  started. 

Just  then  the  cry  "  Mark "  made  Ruth 
throw  up  her  gun  and  fire.  A  fine  cock 
pheasant  flopped  cluttering  down  at  her  feet. 
Along  by  some  holly  bushes  a  rabbit  went 
scooting  saucily.  Ruth  marked  him  as  her 
own — and  he  paid  for  his  folly  ;  so  sweet  was 
the  curling  smoke  and  the  scent  of  the  powder 
to  the  nostrils  of  this  inveterate  sportswoman. 

Jack  Carey,  in  a  sudden  fright,  cried, 
"  Look  out,  Lord  love  us ! "  for  his  neighbor — 
who  was  very  nearsighted — seemed  to  be  aim 
ing  straight  at  his  gaiters.  Bang !  and  a  hare 
sped  over  the  grass;  he  tried  with  his  left, 
but  missed  him.  The  cheery  sound  of  the 
beaters— swash,  swish,  whack — came  to  them 


118  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

all  through  the  day.  The  bag  was  immense, 
and  so  was  everyone's  appetite  when  they  sat 
down  to  luncheon,  which  was  brought  out  to 
them  in  the  fields,  by  a  breakfnl  of  merry- 
eyed,  rosy-cheeked  girls,  laughing,  chatter 
ing,  and  enjoying  every  moment. 

They  all  drank  some  delicious  English 
"  nut-brown  ale,"  and  then  the  men  hurried 
off  to  the  cover  next  to  be  shot  over. 

Kuth  returned  to  the  house  with  the  girls. 
She  was  fatigued  with  the  reaction  from  the 
excitement  caused  by  her  dangerous  adventure 
in  the  face  of  the  guns,  and  made  her  pretty 
young  friends  blanch  with  fear  when  she  re 
lated  it  on  their  drive  homewards. 

Mildred  Holbourne  was  watching  Euth  all 
the  while  with  a  new  and  curious  expression 
on  her  face.  Her  eyes  had  that  intense  pain 
in  them  that  is  seen  in  those  of  an  animal 
wounded  to  the  death.  Kuth  caught  their 
gaze  once,  and  turned  aside,  coloring  vio 
lently.  She  had  no  cause  to  blush,  she  tried 
to  assure  herself  ;  and  yet — and  yet — but  she 
endeavored  to  secure  consolation  from  the 
thought  that  it  was  all  for  Mildred's  sake  that 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  119 

she  was  winning  away  from  her  the  man  she 
adored.  For,  she  reasoned,  once  separated 
from  him,  Mildred  would  be  helped  by  pride 
to  put  him  aside  from  her  thoughts ;  and 
she  might  then  turn  to  her  husband,  and  try 
to  forget  her  sorrow  in  her  devotion  to  him. 
Finally,  Ruth  reasoned  with  herself  so  hard 
about  the  unselfishness  of  her  affair  with  Will 
Dunston,  that  she  actually  believed  at  times 
that  she  was  conquering  the  man  only  for 
Mildred's  good. 

Nevertheless,  her  woman's  instinct  had  told 
Mildred  the  whole  pitiless  truth.  The  Bight 
before,  some  inner  devil  had  made  her  restless, 
and  she  had  gone  down  into  the  library  for  a 
book  which  she  had  been  reading.  Softly 
entering  the  room,  she  saw  Will  Dunston  with 
Ruth's  white  lace  fan  in  his  hands,  kissing  it 
passionately.  She  quietly  turned  away,  and 
retraced  her  steps  without  giving  a  sign  ;  but 
the  chords  of  her  heart  were  torn  that  night. 
She  slowly  undressed  and  went  to  bed,  turn 
ing  her  face  to  the  wall  like  a  dying  beast, 
without  a  moan.  Her  anguish  was  too  great  for 
utterance. 


120  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

She  had  not  gone  to  the  shoot  that  morn 
ing.  She  was  tired,  and  had  other  things  to 
do,  she  said.  But  she  went  with  her  bevy  of 
girls  to  take  the  luncheon  to  the  men,  looking 
unusually  calm  and  statuesque.  "No  one  re 
marked  it  but  Tfcuth ;  and  when  she  saw  the 
dumb  suffering  which  her  friend's  deep  eyes 
revealed,  her  heart  misgave  her.  "Has  she 
heard?  Does  she  know?"  she  thought  rap 
idly.  "  Oh !  how  childish  I  am !  Why,  it  is 
impossible ;  and  besides,  even  though  the 
worst  comes,  and  she  does  know  it  all,  she  will 
gee  that  it  is  the  best  thing  for  everyone.  I 
don't  want  Will  Dunston,  I  only  wish  to 
break  off  this  terrible  affair  ;  and  although  I 
should  forfeit  Mildred's  friendship,  it  would 
be  in  a  good  cause,"  she  argued  mentally,  giv 
ing  an  almost  virtuous  sigh  of  self-satisfaction, 
and  patting  herself  on  the  back  metaphorically, 
with  approval  of  her  own  diplomacy. 

On  arriving  at  the  house  they  all  crowded 
into  the  music-room  to  hear  one  of  the  young 
girls  sing  a  charming  song  of  her  own  composi 
tion,  with  guitar  accompaniment.  It  was  called 
"  Adown  the  Stream  " — a  pretty  little  air,  full 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  121 

of  melody,  and  a  suggestion  of  the  moonlit 
river. 

Kuth  could  not  bear  the  look  in  Mildred's 
face ;  so  she  left  the  room,  stepped  out  of  the 
library  window  into  the  garden,  and  leaned 
over  the  park- railing.  It  was  blowing  cold, 
and  the  sky,  which  had  been  threatening  a 
snow-storm  for  the  last  hour  or  so,  took  on  a 
curious  gray  color;  and  presently  the  snow 
began  to  fall  in  large  flakes,  silently  and  per 
sistently.  Drawing  her  deep  fur  collar  high 
up  around  her  ears,  she  turned  down  a  path 
which  led  up  to  a  knoll  in  the  park,  and 
walked  briskly  until  she  reached  the  top.  She 
stood  there  for  some  time,  shading  her  eyes 
with  her  hand  from  the  stinging  snow,  which 
was  now  falling  furiously. 

She  knew  that  this  must  be  the  way  for 
the  men  to  return  from  their  shooting ;  and 
she  wanted  to  see  Jack  Carey  and  tell  him  to 
stay  near  her  as  much  as  possible  at  the  dance. 
She  could  not  explain  why  she  wished  it ;  per 
haps  it  was  because  she  felt  as  though <c  scenes  " 
were  impossibilities  under  the  frank,  pure 
gaze  of  such  a  devoted  fellow. 


122  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

She  stood  on  the  knoll  for  a  long  time,  un 
til  she  was  powdered  with  snow,  and  her  hair, 
where  the  flakes  had  caught  in  its  curls,  was 
quite  white,  as  though  got  up  for  some  fancy- 
dress  occasion. 

1  They  had  all  proposed  to  dine  early,  and 
drive  to  Saltonbrough  House,  which  was  about 
ten  miles  off.  Now  a  ten-mile  drive  in  the 
country  on  a  snowy  night  is  not  a  thing  to 
"hanker  arter,"  unless  the  goal  to  be  reached 
is  a  very  attractive  one.  Ruth  put  off  the 
necessity  of  preparing  for  it  until  she  began 
to  fear  that  they  would  be  late  for  the  ball,  as 
it  was  already  growing  dusk. 

A  superstitious  fear  came  over  her,  and  she 
kept  saying  to  herself  mechanically,  under 
her  breath — "  When  I  see  the  men  come  out 
of  the  woods,  if  Jack  is  ahead  of  the  others, 
I'm  saved  ;  but  if  Will  Dunston  is  first,  I'm 
lost."  She  watched  with  straining  eyes  all 
down  the  park  the  paths  which  led  out  of  the 
big  wood,  feeling  as  though  her  destiny  de 
pended  on  who  would  be  the  foremost  to 
emerge.  A  cold  nose  was  pushed  into  her 
ungloved  hand,  which  was  hanging  by  her 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  123 

side.  She  started,  and  looked  down  to  find 
that  it  was  only  one  of  the  fox-hound  puppies. 
The  hound  gazed  up  at  her  with  his  brown, 
questioning  eyes,  and  wagged  his  tail  sol 
emnly. 

Looking  up  she  saw  some  dark  objects  ad 
vancing  quickly  through  the  whirling  snow. 
The  one  ahead  of  the  others  swung  along  at  a 
tremendous  pace,  and  soon  outstripped  them. 
His  giant  shoulders  breasted  the  wind  and  the 
storm  without  wavering.  Peering  earnestly 
at  him,  she  caught  her  breath  with  horror, 
and  turning  on  her  heel  fled  back  to  the  house, 
and  on  up  to  her  room ;  for  she  saw,  alas ! 
that  it  was — Will  Dunston  ! 

*'  Love  horns  us,  and  hoofs  us— or  gives  us  our  wings." 

ELLA  WHEELBB  WILOOZ. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

When  the  viols  played  their  best 
Lamps  above  and  laughs  below, 

Love  me  sounded  like  a  jest 
Fit  for  yet  or  fit  for  no." 


E. 

THE  ball  that  night  at  Saltern  brough  House 
was  a  very  brilliant  affair.  The  old  place  had 
brightened  up,  and  wore  a  gala  appearance. 
Everybody  was  delighted.  Ruth  looked  rav 
ishing,  and  all  eyes,  women's  as  well  as  men's, 
followed  her  admiringly,  as  she  swayed  to  and 
fro  to  the  rhythm  of  the  dance. 

Colonel  Dalton,  looking  handsomer,  if  pos 
sible,  than  in  the  morning,  was  "  most  awfully 
kind  ''  to  all  the  pretty  women  —  so  they  ex 
pressed  their  pleased  sense  of  his  attentions. 
Ruth  assured  him  that  she  felt  quite  grateful 
when  he  asked  her  for  a  polka  ;  in  reply  to 
which  he  beamed,  and  looked  taller  than  ever. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  125 

After  a  turn  or  two  on  the  shining  floor,  she 
whispered  sweetly  to  him  that  she  much  pre 
ferred  sitting  out  with  him  in  some  "  quiet 
corner ; "  whereupon  the  Colonel  tucked  her 
little  hand  tenderly  under  his  great,  strong 
arm,  and  walked  off  with  her  triumphantly, 
while  he  cast  a  withering  look  on  the  vapid 
youths  the  world  calls  dancing  men,  who  were 
standing  in  inane  groups  against  the  walls, 
like  show  figures  in  a  Jew  shop  window,  where 
they  exhibit  ready-made  clothing.  The  Colonel 
was  a  good  talker,  and  Ruth  liked  to  hear  his 
ringing,  hearty  laugh,  when  he  told  one  of  his 
best  stories. 

Will  Dunston  was  leaning  against  a  cur 
tain,  his  gloomy  face  standing  out  in  high 
relief  against  the  crimson  folds.  He  had  not 
danced  with  Kuth  the  whole  night,  and  did 
not  know  where  to  find  her  at  the  present 
time.  He  was  wildly  unhappy  ;  for  the  beauty 
of  the  woman  had  entered  into  his  heart  in 
earnest,  and  was  eating  into  it  like  a  can 
kerous  worm.  Feeling  that  he  must  speak  to 
her,  and  see  her,  if  only  for  a  moment,  he 
rushed  frantically  through  the  rooms,  coming 


126  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

at  last  upon  her  and  the  Colonel,  just  as  the 
latter  had  delivered  one  of  his  best  bon-mots. 
They  were  both  laughing  merrily,  and  the 
Colonel's  gray  beard  was  bristling  at  his  own 
wit. 

Will  Dunston  checked  his  haste,  and  walked 
leisurely  over  to  them,  all  the  while  bursting 
with  rage  at  Ruth  because  she  could  be  so 
mirthful  while  he  was  so  wretched. 

"  I  think  this  is  our  dance,  Mrs.  Bronson," 
he  said,  smiling  down  at  her,  while  his  black 
mustache  curled  up,  showing  his  teeth,  large 
and  white  like  a  wolf's. 

"Really?  Why  I  hadn't  any  idea.  The 
time  has  passed  so  delightfully,"  she  an 
swered,  rising  and  taking  Will  Dunston's  arm, 
and  smiling  back  her  prettiest  smile  at  the 
handsome  Colonel. 

The  Colonel  was  very  fond  of  the  gay  little 
American,  and  was  never  happier  than  when 
he  had  her  for  a  listener,  for  he  was  always 
sure  of  her  merry,  catching  laugh  at  the  right 
moment.  How  different  she  was  from  his 
English  friends — those  unreasonable  ladies  who 
would  put  up  their  fans  and  yawn  after  hearing 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  127 

his  pet  story  about  his  wife's  canaries  for  the 
seventeenth  time ! 

Buth  always  had  a  ready  laugh  in  reserve. 
Not  that  she  yearned  particularly  for  the  story 
of  the  canaries  for  the  seventeenth  time ;  but 
because  she  liked  the  narrator,  his  weather- 
beaten  face,  and  jolly  ways ;  thoroughly  ad 
miring  him,  notwithstanding  his  one  little 
failing — too  frequent  relapse  into  anecdot- 
age. 

"  Why  do  you  try  to  make  a  fool  of  that 
man,  too  ? "  Will  Dunston  asked  fiercely.  She 
looked  up  at  him  quickly,  and  a  defiant,  reck 
less  mood  came  over  her.  Laughing  in  a 
cruel,  sly  way,  she  answered  : 

"  Oh,  one  must  do  something  to — to  make 
one  forget ;  and  besides,  I'm  not  making  a 
fool  of  Colonel  Dalton  ;  I  haven't  such  power ; 
he's  too  sensible  for  that ;  and  perhaps  I'm 
too — fond  of  him."  She  began  to  feel  Will 
Dunston's  strong  nature  overpowering  her  as 
usual.  It  was  always  so,  she  found,  the  mo 
ment  she  was  in  his  presence. 

'<  What  do  you  try  to  forget,  Buth  ?  Ah  ! 
I  know.  You  think  you  deceive  me ;  but  I 


128  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

see  you  don't  love  your  husband,  and  you 
are  unhappy." 

Ruth  started  back  in  disgust,  and  tried  to 
draw  her  hand  from  his  arm,  but  he  held  it 
tight.  She  could  do  nothing  without  drawing 
upon  herself  the  attention  of  the  many  people 
around. 

UA  woman  craves  love.  Money  alone 
will  not  satisfy  her.  She  wants  the  affec 
tion  and  devotion  of  a  man  her  own  age, 
and  not  the  jealous  adoration  of  an  elderly 
husband,  who  imagines  that  jewels,  toilettes, 
horses,  etc.,  will  atone  for  the  lack  of 
what  every  passionate  heart  demands,"  he 
continued. 

Ruth  hated  herself  for  allowing  him  to  talk 
on.  "Why  did  she  not  appeal  to  her  friends, 
and  tell  them  how  this  man  was  tempting 
her,  and  slowly  and  surely  strangling  her 
womanhood?  She  tried  to  speak,  but  her 
voice  died  away  into  a  whisper ;  and  she 
found  herself  wondering  if  after  all  life  con 
tained  something  more  to  be  desired  than  the 
calm  devotion  of  one  good,  passionless  man. 
Then  she  heard  Will  Dunston's  voice  again, 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  129 

hollow  and  muffled,  as  though  speaking  to  her 
from  some  other  world. 

"  A  woman  craves  love,"  he  repeated,  "  and 
must  have  it.  She  starves  and  is  incomplete 
without  it.  Ah !  Ruth,  if  you  would  only  let 
me  love  you  !  If  you  would  only  come  away 
with  me  somewhere,  I  would  devote  myself 
to  you.  Come  with  me  now — this  very  mo 
ment.  I  will  be  your  slave.  Ah !  how  I  love 
you!" 

They  were  standing  in  the  shadow  of  a  gal 
lery  at  the  end  of  a  long  room.  Ruth  watched 
the  whirling  couples  in  the  waltz,  and  mechani 
cally  counted  the  garlands  and  candles  on  the 
wall  near  her-  She  did  not  know  how  to  act, 
feeling  as  she  did  the  powerful  fascination  of 
this  man.  She  could  now  understand  Mil 
dred's  infatuation  only  too  well.  Somehow 
her  voice  sounded  to  herself  like  a  stranger's, 
as  she  evasively  answered — <c  Yes — perhaps — 
some  day,  Will ;  some  day ;  but  not  now. 
Oh!  it  is  all  so  sudden  and  fearful!  You 
will  kill  me  !  "  and  she  covered  her  burning 
face  with  her  trembling  hands. 

She  felt  his  hot  breath  on  her  shoulder,  as 


130  THE     SHADOW     OP     DE8IKE. 

lie  bent  down  and  whispered  savagely :  "  Yes, 
Ruth !  I  will  kill  you — some  day :  the  day 
when  I  find  that  you  do  not  mean  to  keep 
your  word  !  " 

His  arm  tightened  cruelly,  hurting  her  hand 
in  its  grip.  Jack  Carey,  who  was  watching 
her  from  a  distance,  wondered  why  she  stag 
gered  so;  and  concluded  that  she  was  over- 
fatigued  with  her  day's  shooting.  How  lovely 
he  thought  her!  Every  undulation  of  that 
small,  graceful  form  was  a  poem  to  him. 
Jack  Carey  knew  that  the  Ruth  of  that  night 
was  not  the  same  Ruth  who  was  his  sweet 
heart  of  years  ago.  He  realized  with  a  hor 
rible  shock  that  her  eyes  were  not  as  pure  as 
when  he  had  last  gazed  into  them ;  but  he 
loved — ah  !  yes,  he  loved  her  ;  and  he  hugged 
his  secret  to  his  heart  jealously.  The  bloom 
of  her  mature  womanhood  intoxicated  him 
much  more  than  the  frail  flower-beauty  of  her 
girlhood  had  done ;  and  it  maddened  him  to 
think  that  it  was  so,  for  his  boyish  love-dream 
had  been  that  she  should  be  a  sort  of  modern 
Elaine;  pale,  fair,  guileless,  yielding  herself 
to  his  love  without  knowing  or  understanding 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  131 

why  ;  loving  as  with  an  angel's  love  :  giving  all, 
asking  nothing — not  even  expecting  toll,  com 
plimentary  or  otherwise.  And  now — now  he 
desired  a  woman  whose  soul  he  feared — he 
almost  knew — was  like  Messalina's.  Every 
thing  seemed  fade,  without  savor  or  salt ;  for 
he  wanted  her ;  and  he  groaned  inwardly 
when  he  remembered  how  impossible  of  ful 
filment  was  his  dream. 

She  was  dancing  with  Captain  Sultingham 
then ;  and  her  beautiful  face  showed  pale  in 
comparison  with  the  foreign-looking  one  of 
the  soldier,  which  was  darkened  by  many 
scorching  eastern  suns.  He  envied  all  the 
savage  things  at  that  moment,  because  they 
could  cry  out  when  unhappy.  He  envied  the 
sea  because  it  could  moan  when  it  was  hurt 
against  the  rocks ;  and  the  pines,  because  they 
could  shriek  aloud  all  through  the  stormy 
nights,  or  cry  if  they  pleased,  in  their  low, 
piteous  way,  like  a  woman  grieved,  or  an  un 
loved  child. 

He  watched  Ruth  until  she  had  finished 
the  waltz  with  Captain  Sultingham.  Then 
he  walked  swiftly  over  to  her,  and  begged 


132  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

her  to  go  down  to  the  supper-room,  and  have 
a  glass  of  champagne.  It  would  do  her  good, 
he  declared,  as  he  noticed  that  her  sweet 
mouth  drooped  wearily. 

"  How  good  you  are,  Jack  !"  she  sighed,  and 
clung  to  his  arm,  almost  fainting  with  the  heat 
of  the  room.  They  went  silently  down  the 
grand  old  stair-case  to  the  supper-room,  where 
they  found  crowds  of  thirsty  people.  Lady 
Saltonbrough,  looking  lovely,  if  so  frivolous  a 
term  can  be  applied  to  such  a  noble  specimen 
of  English  womanhood,  kindly  told  Jack 
Carey  to  go  over  to  a  corner  table,  where  they 
would  l>e  more  comfortably  served. 

At  the  next  table  to  them,  Ruth  observed 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Danesford,  neighbors  of  Mil 
dred's.  Mrs.  Danesford  was  a  doll  of  a 
woman,  with  a  perfect  figure,  and  a  "  sweetly 
pretty  '*  face,  as  the  school  girls  say.  Her 
pink  tulle  gown  garlanded  with  roses,  buds, 
and  leaves,  was  in  delightful  harmony  with  her 
exquisite  face.  Ruth  drew  Jack  Carey's  atten 
tion  to  Mrs.  Danesford,  and  then  told  him  of 
the  story  which  many  of  the  county  people 
had  told  her,  of  a  run  in  which  the  thorough- 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  188 

bred  little  ]ady  had  participated  last  season. 
It  appeared  that  hounds  were  running  hard, 
and  that  Mrs.  Danesford  and  her  stolid  lord 
and  master  accidentally  jumped  into  a  sheep- 
pen.  Her  mare  popped  out  again,  of  course, 
without  a  moment's  thought ;  but  on  turning 
to  her  husband,  Mrs.  Danesford  saw  to  her 
dismay  that  he  was  hopelessly  stuck,  as  his 
horse  refused  to  jump  out.  She  turned  like  a 
flash  on  to  the  line  again,  leaving  her  luckless 
"hubbie"  in  the  lurch.  The  love  of  sport 
had  been  running  for  too  many  centuries  in 
the  veins  of  the  little  lady's  ancestors  for  her 
to  be  capable  of  stopping  behind  to  find  out 
why  her  husband's  horse  would  not  jump. 

It  was  whispered  about  the  next  day  that 
he  had  opened  his  heart  to  the  extent  of  giv 
ing  a  farmer's  lad  sixpence  to  pull  out  a  hurdle 
and  thus  enable  him  to  walk  through ;  but  of 
course  that  was  only  a  gossipy  rumor.  The 
hounds  rolled  their  fox  over  about  ten  miles 
away ;  and  poor  Mr.  Danesford  did  not  see 
them  until  the  next  meet. 

Most  of  the  guests  at  the  ball  drove  home 
about  three  o'clock.  The  snow  had  stopped 


134  THE     BHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

falling,  and  the  night  was  curiously  bright ; 
every  object  showed  up  big  and  clearly  out 
lined,  its  form  exaggerated  by  reflection  from 
the  snow. 

Ruth  sank  down  in  the  corner  of  the  car 
riage,  letting  the  fur  robes  slip  down  on  to  the 
floor,  unheeded.  She  was  deadly  weary,  and 
the  tramp  of  the  horses'  hoofs  on  the  frozen 
road  seemed  to  beat  into  her  tired  brain,  as 
though  trying  to  keep  up  with  the  riotous 
pulse  of  her  guilty  heart. 

"  Eetribution,  retribution !"  was  the  ejacu 
lation  of  her  agony,  as  the  steady  old  horses 
trotted  on  through  the  snow  to  Forest  House. 

"  Love  is  not  love 
Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds." 

SHAKKBPBARB. 


CHAPTEE    X. 

"  If  your  horse  be  well  bred  and  in  blooming  condition, 

Both  up  to  the  country  and  up  to  your  weight, 
O  !  then  give  the  reins  to  your  youthful  ambition  ; 
Sitdownin  your  saddle  and  keep  his  head  straight." 

FOE  two  days  it  had  been  thawing  (much  to 
the  delight  of  the  hunting  set);  and  after  a 
few  more  hours  of  sunshine  almost  as  warm 
as  that  of  spring,  the  frost  disappeared  alto 
gether,  as  though  by  magic ;  and  the  snow 
left  behind  from  its  downy  dress  only  a  few 
fluffy  feathers  dispersed  in  obscure  corners 
and  hollows. 

Charles,  the  huntsman,  had  stopped  while 
exercising  hounds  at  all  the  houses  for  miles 
around  where  they  preserved,  to  tell  the  game 
keeper  to  stop  the  fox-earths,  as  hounds 
would  meet  at  Forest  House  the  next  morn 
ing.  Egon  Marsdon,  a  youth  of  fifteen,  who 


186  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

was  cramming  with  a  tutor  at  a  neighboring 
rectory,  begged  to  go  out  that  night  with 
Darley  to  assist.  His  doting  mamma  im 
agined  that  he  was  studious  ;  but  he  was  seen 
oftener  with  horses  or  with  his  gun  than  with 
his  books.  He  was  a  brave  and  handsome 
lad,  and  rode  and  shot  well ;  so  his  friends — 
particularly  the  girls  —  forgave  him  many 
things. 

Mrs.  Olney  had  arrived  for  a  few  days'  visit 
at  Forest  House.  She  possessed  a  hunting- 
box  somewhere  in  the  Shires,  and  had  been 
having  some  fine  sport  until  the  frost  came 
on.  Then  she  fled  to  gayer  quarters,  and  had 
been  paying  many  visits  to  country  houses. 
She  and  her  husband  had  come  to  England 
for  the  annual  hunting ;  but  the  claims  of 
business  had  prevailed,  and  Mr.  Olney  had 
left  shortly  after,  while  his  wife  had  made 
arrangements  to  go  on  to  Paris  and  stay  until 
he  returned  for  her  in  the  spring. 

Mrs.  Olney  took  a  great  fancy  to  Egon 
Marsdon,  and  pronounced  him  a  "  charming 
boy."  It  was  she  who  was  responsible  for 
spoiling  him ;  she  often  encouraged  him  to 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  137 

ride  with  her  when  he  should  have  been  at 
his  studies.  He  thanked  her  though,  after  he 
grew  to  manhood,  for  teaching  him  the  love 
of  interesting  books,  music,  and  art ;  for  he 
had  become  a  little  man  of  the  world  under 
her  influence  before  the  down  appeared  on 
his  round  face. 

It  was  amusing  to  watch  his  superior  airs, 
and  his  affectation  of  being  "  bored,"  when 
any  girl  of  his  own  age  approached  him  ;  such 
girls  he  calmly  dubbed  "  brats.5'  He  seemed 
only  in  his  element  when  Mrs.  Olney  was 
near,  and  made  secret  plans  for  the  future 
when  Mrs.  Olney  would  be  Mrs.  Egon  Mars- 
don.  Mrs.  Olney,  by  the  way,  was  ten  years 
his  senior. 

She  enjoyed  playing  on  the  strings  of  this 
strange,  fresh  instrument,  "  Puppy  love."  It 
amused  her ;  she  knew  that  such  boyish  in 
sanities  never  last,  and  that  when  he  grew  older 
he  would  not  like  her  the  less  for  having 
taught  him  a  few  of  the  ways  of  the  mad  old 
world. 

The  day  of  the  meet  at  Forest  House 
dawned  cold  and  gray ;  a  mild  wind  was 


[VFI7BRS1TT] 


138  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

blowing,  and  the  sky  was  cloudy.  Ruth 
jumped  out  of  bed  early,  all  eager  for  the 
sport.  She  had  been  getting  herself  "fit'' 
lately  by  long,  quiet  canters  across  country. 

Hastily  throwing  on  her  habit,  she  de 
scended  to  the  large  dining-room,  where 
many  of  the  people  she  had  met  lately  in  the 
country  were  gathered.  Outside  in  the  court 
yard,  Mr.  Sawyer — the  master — Charles,  the 
huntsman,  and  the  first  and  second  whips 
sat  their  horses  as  though  they  were  a  part  of 
themselves.  The  lady-pack,  eighteen  couples 
in  all,  lay  around  them  in  perfect  control, 
without  a  whimper.  Several  of  the  smart 
young  men  looked,  in  their  well-cut  boots 
and  immaculate  "  pink,'*  and  violet  button 
holes,  almost  too  correct  for  hard  riding. 

Mildred  and  her  husband  did  the  honors  of 
the  hunt  breakfast  most  hospitably. 

Grooms  were  trotting  up  the  roads  to  the 
house  in  all  directions,  with  led  horses ;  while 
carriages  rattled  up  containing  the  wives, 
daughters,  or  sweethearts  of  many  of  the 
hunting  men. 

What    a    gloriously    amiable    and    divine 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  139 

creature  a  certain  type  of  Englishwoman  is ! 
She  will  resort  to  almost  any  economy,  and 
uncomplainingly  forego  her  dearest  wishes,  so 
as  to  enable  her  lord  and  master  the  luxury 
of  keeping  hunters.  These  women  will  drive 
to  the  meets  in  traps — which  apparently  they 
have  inherited  from  some  ancestor  out  of  the 
Ark — drawn  by  hollow-eyed  animals  with 
forelegs  like  interrogation  points.  They  will 
jog  about  from  cover  to  cover,  with  a  bright 
expectant  smile  on  their  poor,  patient  faces ; 
nay,  they  will  even  watch  the  men  shorten 
their  stirrups,  to  gallop  straight  away  when 
hounds  find,  with  the  same  delight  as  though 
they  themselves  had  "for'ard,  for'ard,  gone 
away !  "  with  the  rest  of  the  field. 

O,  you  good  ladies!  We  who  are  not  as 
brave,  loving  and  self-sacrificing  as  you,  are 
yet  aware  of  your  superiority,  and  feel  sure 
that  although  many  of  the  naughty,  selfish 
men  do  not  appreciate  you  as  you  deserve,  you 
will  surely  have  your  reward  in  that  "  better 
land  "  of  which  the  tender  poetess,  Jean  In- 
gelow,  speaks  so  pathetically  in  "  Songs  of 
Seven." 


140  THE     SHADOW     OF    DESIRE. 

Waldo  Bronson  had  returned  to  Forest 
House  by  an  early  train  that  morning.  He 
had  been  away  on  pressing  business  matters, 
and  was  as  " pleased  as  Punch"  when  he 
found  himself  back  in  time  for  the  meet.  He 
was  as  eager  about  it  as  Ruth,  and  took  much 
pains  in  selecting  two  steady  hunters  from 
Flaike  &  Co.,  reliable  horse-dealers  at  a  vil 
lage  in  the  county. 

Ruth  felt  as  though  the  day  was  perfect  in 
deed  when  she  saw  that  her  husband  would 
accompany  her.  Waldo  Bronson  was  in  quite 
boyishly  high  spirits.  His  swarthy  face 
glowed  with  a  deep  blush  of  pleasure  when 
he  mounted  his  wife  on  the  thoroughbred  bay 
which  Flaike  had  recommended. 

Mildred  rode  a  black  "  Irishman ''  renowned 
for  c<  timber ''  and  "  water,"  and  with  a  mouth 
so  "soft''  that  a  child  could  ride  him. 

The  two  little  Gale  girls,  "  Pickles  "  and 
"Polly"  (how  they  had  earned  such  sobri 
quets  no  one  had  ever  been  able  to  find  out), 
were  of  the  party.  Notwithstanding  their 
pet  names,  they  were  thorough  little  sports 
women.  Ruth  declared  that  she  had  never 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  141 

seen  a  woman  go  straighter  to  hounds  than 
"Pickles  "did. 

The  Gale  family  had  been  very  wealthy. 
They  sprang  from  an  old  English  stock,  many 
of  whose  scions  had  done  loyal  service  to 
their  kings  in  former  times.  The  present 
branch  had  always  entertained  most  lavishly 
until  the  father  died;  then  they  found  that 
they  had  to  leave  the  grand  house  and  live  in 
a  small  cottage. 

Mrs.  Gale,  a  distinguished-looking  woman, 
who  gave  one  the  impression  of  being  more 
like  a  handsome  elder  sister  than  the  mother 
of  so  many  tall  girls,  managed  somehow  to 
keep  a  hunter  for  "Pickles"  and  "Polly," 
which  they  rode  on  alternate  days.  Maude, 
the  other  girl,  was  the  beauty  of  the  family. 
She  never  rode,  but  spent  her  time  in  society. 
Many  people  predicted  a  great  match  for  her. 

The  dear  friends  that  their  father  had  en 
tertained  so  well  in  his  time,  seldom  now  even 
remembered  the  existence  of  the  widow  and 
her  children.  Occasionally  some  unusually 
grateful  soul  would  have  a  twinge  of  con 
science — or  gout  ? — if  the  latter,  then  a  keep- 


142  THTE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE. 

sake  from  the  old  Burgundy  from  Mr.  Gale's 
cellars,  of  which  they  had  drunk  many  a  bot 
tle  in  the  good  old  days.  These  people  would 
sometimes  find  it  in  their  hearts  to  ask  the 
girls  to  tea  or  garden-parties. 

Promptly  at  eleven  o'clock  Mr.  Sawyer 
trotted  off  to  the  cover  to  be  first  drawn,  in 
the  wake  of  his  pack,  followed  by  a  straggling 
field,  chatting  and  smoking. 

Darley,  the  game-keeper,  smiled  knowingly 
when  Ruth  bade  him  good-morning.  Touch 
ing  his  cap,  he  walked  along  for  a  moment  by 
the  side  of  her  hunter,  saying  in  a  loud  whis 
per,  "  You'll  'ave  a  goodish  gallop  to-day, 
m'1'dy  ;  I  caught  sight  o'  a  fine  dorg-fox  lawst 
night.''  Ruth  smiled  kindly  down  on  him, 
and  thought  that  it  would  be  unfortunate  for 
poor  Darley  if  they  didn't  "  find  "  and  "  'ave 
a  goodish  gallop,''  as  he  expressed  it.  His 
master  was  for  the  fox,  and  Darley  against 
him,  and  it  was  whispered  that  between  the 
game-keepers  and  the  petty  Scotch  farmers, 
with  their  barbed  wire  and  their  prejudice, 
Reynard's  life  was  not  worth  the  living. 

The  farmers  did  not  want  hounds  over  their 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  143 

land,  though  were  it  not  for  hunting,  where 
would  be  the  market  for  their  corn,  oats,  hay, 
straw,  young  horses,  etc.?  The  game-keepers 
had  not  much  good  blood  for  the  fox,  because 
he  had  a  playful  habit  of  stealing  the  eggs  off 
the  nests,  and  of  sticking  his  sharp  teeth  into 
the  necks  of  the  young  birds. 

Many  people  suggested  that  the  fox  had 
other  sins  to  answer  for  as  well  as  his  own. 
There  was  a  dealer  at  a  market  close  by,  who 
bargained  secretly  for  all  the  game  brought 
him.  Although,  of  course,  Darley  was  incapa 
ble  of  such  underhand  dealings,  for  when  the 
bags  were  lighter  than  they  should  be,  he 
would  assume  a  fine  look  of  astonishment,  and 
blurt  out  indignantly  that  it  was  that  ublawsted 
varmint  again." 

"  Ah  !  good-morning,  Mrs.  Bronson  !"  and 
Dr.  Wall  rode  up  on  a  raking  chestnut,  his 
round,  rosy  face  beaming  with  good  nature. 
He  was  the  county  doctor,  and  quite  a  popular 
character.  He  could  mend  a  broken  rib,  or 
sing  you  a  rollicking  song,  with  equal  enjoy 
ment.  When  he  could  do  so,  he  would  often 
steal  a  day  off  to  have  a  gallop.  Always  when 


144  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

hunting,  he  carried  a  tiny,  innocent-looking 
black  case  strapped  to  his  saddle — the  sort  of 
case  in  which  ordinary  people  carry  sandwiches ; 
but  this  innocent-looking  case  contained  sur 
gical  instruments,  to  be  used  in  unpleasant 
emergencies.  A  gruesome  pal  was  that  tiny 
case ;  but  most  useful,  once,  when  a  lady  got 
hung  up  while  attempting  to  crash  through  a 
"  bull-finch ''  when  hounds  were  in  full  cry. 
Her  horse,  becoming  frightened,  ran  away 
with  her,  kicking  her  head  with  every  stride. 
When  rescued  by  Dr.  Wall  and  Colonel  Dai- 
ton,  she  was  quite  black  in  the  face  from 
hanging  head  downwards  so  long.  She  was 
frightfully  bruised,  and  had  several  bones 
broken.  Dr.  Wall  attended  her  successfully ; 
and  she  is  hunting  again,  I  hear,  down  in  the 
Shires,  her  good  old  English  love  for  sport 
having  prevailed  notwithstanding  her  "  close 
call." 

The  voice  of  the  master  encouraging  his 
hounds  was  answered  in  a  few  moments  by  an 
excited  whimper  from  "  Prudence,"  a  young 
hound  that  no  one  trusted  much.  Kuth  loved 
to  watch  the  pack  work,  as  they  ran  feverishly 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  145 

here  and  there  through  the  bushes  and  bracken, 
rapidly  waving  their  sterns. 

Suddenly  Prudence  flung  out  her  tongue  in 
triumphant  music,  and  led  the  pack  straight 
through  the  big  ride  and  over  the  pastures. 
The  field  spread  out  to  gallop  and  jump.  Ruth 
tried  to  follow  her  husband,  but  got  separated 
by  the  crush  in  the  big  wood.  Keeping  well 
to  the  left  of  the  hounds,  she,  "  Pickles  ''  Gale 
and  Egon  Marsdon  had  a  race  for  it  during 
the  next  twenty  minutes. 

Several  nasty  blind  places  had  thrown  most 
of  the  field  out,  and  when  they  checked  near 
the  wind-mill,  only  a  few  riders  were  in  sight. 
They  soon  picked  it  up  again,  and  rattled  away. 
About  half  a  field  ahead  of  her  Ruth  saw 
a  trim,  natty  figure,  sitting  down  close  in  her 
saddle,  and  going  as  straight  as  a  stag;  she 
recognized  in  her  the  bright-faced  little  woman 
who  was  staying  at  the  master's — a  Mrs.  Sim- 
son — one  of  the  pluckiest  riders  to  hounds 
with  the  Pytchley.  On  first  meeting  her 
Ruth  had  admired  her  gold-red  hair,  which 
she  wore  in  tiny  short  curls  all  over  her  head. 

At  last  when  they  came  into  the  neutral 


146  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

country  they  rolled  him  over.  Mrs.  Simson 
and  "  Pickles "  Gale  were  the  first  in  at  the 
death ;  and  "  Pickles  "  being  the  most  enthu 
siastic,  was  presented  with  the  " brush;" 
while  the  mask  was  given  to  Egon  Marsdon. 

It  was  growing  late,  and  Ruth  trotted  back 
to  Forest  House,  after  giving  her  hunter  some 
gruel  with  a  pint  of  old  ale  in  it,  at  an  inn 
hard  by.  It  is  wonderful  how  much  ale,  or 
beer,  will  refresh  a  horse  after  a  long  run,  and 
how  soon  he  will  get  a  taste  for  it.  "  Pickles  " 
Gale  lived  in  the  same  direction  as  Forest 
House,  so  they  both  jogged  on  down  the  road 
together.  How  long  the  miles  seem  after  a 
day's  hunting  !  The  way  stretches  out  inter 
minably,  and  we  feel  like  a  bottle  of  uncorked 
champagne,  left  over  from  the  last  night's 
supper. 

The  excitement  over,  we  rise  mechanically 
to  the  slow  trot  of  our  tired  beast,  with  our 
eyes  fixed  stupidly  between  his  ears,  and  our 
coat  collar  turned  up  to  keep  the  spiteful  rain 
from  trickling  down  our  spinal  column,  while 
we  long  for  our  hot  bath,  wrapper,  and  tea. 

On  reaching  home,  "Pickles"  slipped  off 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  147 

her  horse,  and  rang  the  stable  gate-bell. 
" Good-night,  dearie!"  said  Ruth,  arousing 
herself.  "  Don't  forget  to  come  to-morrow 
afternoon  and  bring  some  friends.  We'll  re 
hearse  '  Dancing  in  the  Barn.' >: 

"Never  fear,  I'll  come.  It  will  be  fun 
making  that  tiresome  Egon  go  through  his 
paces.  Wasn't  the  run  jolly,  though  ?  "  an 
swered  the  little  sportswoman.  She  had  no 
other  thought  really  in  her  pretty  head  but 
horses  and  hounds. 

Ruth  trotted  on  through  the  rain,  and  won 
dered  if  her  husband  had  already  returned  to 
the  house.  She  felt  uneasy  for  fear  he  might 
come  to  grief,  because  she  knew  that  he  had 
ridden  very  little  lately,  and  his  horse  was  a 
raw  one,  against  which  Flaike  had  warned  him. 
Around  by  the  lake  drive,  she  saw  her  hus 
band  coming  on  foot  to  meet  her. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  returning  by 
this  way,  so  I  came  out  to  scare  off  the 
ghosts/'  he  called  out,  while  his  dear,  kind 
face  brightened  with  welcome.  Ruth  noticed 
that  he  had  changed  his  clothes. 

"  That  brute  I  rode  chucked  me  headlong 


148  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

into  a  brook,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  him  he 
was  disappearing  over  a  ploughed  field.  I 
had  a  two-mile  walk  to  do  until  I  found  a  cart 
to  bring  me  back  here.  It  proved  to  be  a 
butcher's  cart ;  springless — quite ;  but  the 
lively  jolting  has  saved  me  from  pneumonia, 
I  reckon." 

"  We  had  a  fine  run  of  over  forty  minutes," 
said  Ruth,  laughing  at  his  doleful  story. 

«  Ah,  indeed  !  Well,  it's  just  my  luck,"  he 
answered  disconsolately. 

The  warm,  cosy  library  was  full  of  guests 
having  tea  when  Ruth  passed  by  the  open 
door  on  the  way  upstairs,  but  she  resisted  the 
temptation  of  joining  them,  and  went  reso 
lutely  to  her  own  room  to  take  a  hot  bath — 
a  luxury  in  which  she  generally  indulged  after 
a  hard  day.  It  took  the  aches  and  crinks  out, 
she  said. 

They  all  gathered  in  the  music-room  after 
dinner ;  the  house  party,  that  is,  and  about 
half  a  dozen  of  the  neighbors  who  had 
dined  there.  Most  of  these  were  fresh 
and  charming  girls,  pleasing  to  the  eyes 
of  those  world -worn  souls  who  had  re- 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE.  149 

turned  like  the  prodigal  son  to  the  bread 
and  butter  of  stupid  pastoral  life.  It  was 
altogether  a  gay  company,  notwithstand 
ing  the  buttercup  element.  Marjorie  Brice 
and  her  sister  Lucia,  two  beauties  a  1'Es- 
pagnole,  were  singing  Braga's  Serenade ;  Miss 
Rimmelle  accompanying  them  on  the  piano, 
and  another  amiable  artiste  supplying  the  man 
dolin  part. 

Miss  Bliss  (a  cheery  little  girl  who  should 
have  taken  the  prizes  for  golf  and  long  walks) 
sang  "Fiddle  and  I,"  a  rather  violent  con 
trast  to  the  serenade,  perhaps,  but  an  equally 
enjoyable  performance.  Then  Will  Dunston 
proposed  "  Sailor,''  a  hunting  song  with  a 
ringing  chorus.  His  rich  baritone  voice  quite 
made  them  forget  how  long  the  song  was. 

I. 

"  The  hounds  meet  to-day  by  the  turn-cross  way, 
The  weather  nips  keen  and  the  clouds  are  gray, 
As  we  mount  our  horses  and  trot  along 
And  chat  of  sport  or  some  old  hunting  song  ; 
While  farmer,  squire,  their  lordships  and  all 
Are  castin'  their  lots  to  win,  run  or — a  fall ; 
And  the  words  which  ring  in  our  heads  on  the  way 
Are  '  A  cloudy  day  makes  fine  scent,  so  they  say.' 


150  THE     BHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Then  heigh  !  for  the  pup  whose  tongue  is  too  free ! 
He'll  settle  soon  and  give  points  to  one's  gee, 
Of  tough  stay-in'  power,  of  gallop  and  nerve, 
Of  flyin'  their  fences  'thout  ever  a  swerve. 

II. 

As  we  file  singly  alongside  the  field 

Where  late  crops  are  stacked  and  promise  good  yield, 

A  dog-fox  jumps  'neath  my  hunter's  heel, 

Is  soon  out  of  sight ;  while  one  and  all  feel 

His  cunnin'  in  wood,  grass-land,  or  heather, 

May  baffle  the  hunt  and  hounds  together. 

A  hat  is  held  high  on  the  sky  line  gray — 

"We  pause ;  then  the  cry  of  'Hark  !  Forward,  away  !' 

Then  heigh  !  for  the  hound  who  keeps  to  his  line, 
Who  leads  with  a  will  and  with  nose  so  fine 
That  be  the  fox  ever  so  wily  and  sly, 
He  knows  he  must  *  toddle  '  before  his  '  full  cry.' 

III. 

'  Steady,  old  Sailor  !'    We  bound  to  the  right 
Where  turf's  good  goin',  and  hounds  are  in  sight. 
He  gathers  himself  with  one  mighty  spring, 
Clears  the  big  gate  of  a  big  oxen  ring ; 
Then  fast  o'er  the  meadows— fast  o'er  the  brook, 
Where  brown  leaves  dance  in  each  eddy  in'  nook  ; 
Then  hedges  and  drops  he  takes  in  his  stride 
And  snorts  with  delight,  as  quick  up  the  side 
Of  a  hill — all  tawny  with  long  grass  and  heath — 
He  climbs,  and  soon  leaves  all  the  pastures  beneath. 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  151 

Then  heigh  !  for  the  fox  with  heart  so  brave 
To  take  to  the  '  open '  his  '  brush '  to  save  ! 
May  he  not  be  '  broken '  we  one  and  all  pray 
But  live  on  to  give  us  another  such  day. 

IV. 

The  music  of  hounds  fills  our  hearts  with  joy, 
And  I  call  to  Sailor  '  For'ard,  old  boy  !' 
For  the  fox  is  dead-beat — his  brush  drags  low 
As  he  hides  where  mountain-ashberries  grow. 
But  his  heart  was  stout ;  lie  fought  to  the  last, 
While  his  pack  tumbled  o'er  each  other  fast ; 
Like  a  flash  the  master  'lights  in  the  fray, 
And  hounds  clamor  loud  for  their  well-earned  prey. 
Grave  Reynard's  held  high  up  over  their  noses ; 
The  scent  which  is  wafted  is  sweeter'n  roses. 

Then  heigh  1  for  the  master  with  voice  so  round, 
He  warms  faint  hearts  and  cold  blood  with  its  sound  ; 
And  heigh!  for  the  huntsmen  and  whippers-in  true  ; 
They've  shown  us  fine  sport,  so  we'll  whoop  'em  too. 

V. 

Sailor,  old  fellow  !  I'm  proud  of  you,  lad. 

You've  carried  me  straight  through  runs  good  and  bad. 

"Never  a  whip  nor  a  spur  did  I  use. 

Your  soul's  in  hunting  ;  you  never  refuse  ; 

And  I  know  as  we  homeward  trot  along 

You're  a  gentleman  sure  ;  and  here's  a  song 

Which  well  sing  together.    We'll  talk  of  the  run 

When  glasses  are  clinking,  and  wine  glows  red, 

We'll  drink  to  you,  Sailor,  and  sing  on  to  bed. 


152  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Then  heigh  !  for  the  hunter  with  Irish  blood  ! 
No  heart  is  so  bold,  no  matter  the  stud  ; 
And  heigh  !  for  old  Sailor,  the  best  of  the  lot, 
Though  often  too  eager,  and  sometimes  too  hot !  " 

Ruth  thought  she  had  never  seen  Will 
Dunston  look  so  handsome  before,  as  he  sang 
the  song  with  his  fine  head  thrown  back 
and  his  brown  face  glowing  with  animation. 
Everyone  joined  in  the  chorus,  whose  vocifer 
ous  clamor  made  the  old  house  ring.  Such  a 
rollicking  mood  was  a  new  phase  in  Will 
Dunston's  character.  Mildred  watched  him 
jealously  with  brooding  eyes.  How  she  hated 
herself  for  her  weakness — how  she  hated  her 
self  !  Rising  wearily,  she  went  over  to  a  win 
dow  and  peered  out  into  the  night.  Unshed 
tears  scalded  her  eyes  so  she  could  scarcely 
see. 

"  How  dreary  it  all  is !  How  can  I  end  it  ? " 
she  asked  herself. 

She  had  managed  to  be  thrown  out  of  the 
run  that  day,  because  she  knew  that  he  never 
went  "  straight ;  "  she  yearned  to  be  near  him, 
to  speak  to  him,  to  live  in  a  fool's  paradise, 
and  revel  in  the  exquisite  pain  which  her 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  153 

unhappy  passion  gave  her.  Her  resentment 
against  Ruth  sickened  her  ;  yet  she  could  not 
show  it ;  she  was  much  too  proud  a  woman 
of  the  world  for  that.  At  last  she  was  begin 
ning  to  learn  something  of  the  frailty  of  poor 
humanity;  and  the  lesson  made  her  inexpres 
sibly  desolate.  Some  sage  once  said  that  we 
can  feel  more  lonely  in  a  crowd  than  in  the 
desert  of  Sahara.  How  big  a  bumper  of  life 
that  wise  one  must  have  drained  ! 

The  night  was  growing  colder,  and  the  wind 
whistled  uncanny  waltzes  for  the  whirling 
weather  vanes  up  on  the  high  turrets.  The 
plaintive  cries  of  the  restless  deer  rang  out 
above  the  storm.  Instinct  told  them  that 
snowy  days  and  comfortless  nights  had  come 
again. 

Laura  Lowe,  a  blonde,  sweet-faced  girl 
from  London,  who  was  staying  with  Mil 
dred — sang  "  Aunt  Dinah's  Quilting  Party," 
to  the  accompaniment  of  her  guitar.  The 
sadness  of  the  melody  touched  some  old 
chords  in  Mildred's  heart,  and  she  found  her 
self  being  wafted  in  fancy  back  to  "  Ole 
Virginny."  She  thought  she  was  a  child 


154  THE     SHADOW     OF     DKBIRE. 

once  more  with  Will,  laughing  and  romping 
in  the  summer  fields,  and  clambering  over  the 
blackberry  hedge  down  at  the  foot  of  the 
orchard.  She  was  reaching  out  to  gather 
the  plumy  pink  and  white  flowers  of  the 
crape-myrtle  tree.  Even  in  those  halcyon 
days  he  had  been  used  to  torture  her  in  his 
boyish  way.  Where  had  all  the  strength  and 
pride  of  her  womanhood  gone?  Why  did 
she  not  send  him  away  ? — why  ? — why  ? 

She  hugged  a  pitiable  sort  of  hope  to  her 
heart  that  he  might  after  all  come  back  to 
her.  He  must,  he  should !  she  would  make 
him!  Else  she  would  kill  him — for  if  he 
were  dead,  then  no  one  would  possess  him,  she 
sobbed ;  and  the  tiger  which  is  always  more 
or  less  sleeping  in  a  southern  nature  leaped  to 
her  eyes,  and  sent  her  blood  hard  and  quick 
through  her  veins.  She  clenched  her  hand 
until  the  ring  which  was  placed  on  her  finger 
to  bind  her  "  to  love  until  death  us  do  part,1' 
cut  into  her  flesh.  Slowly  her  arms  dropped 
to  her  side.  Her  dreadful  passion  seemed  to 
faint  within  her  as  she  murmured  under  her 
breath  :  "  No,  not  that !  anything  but  that ! 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  155 

It  will  be  easier  for  me  to  end  it  all  in  an 
other  way.''  And  a  new  light  broke  over  her 
face.  "  Yes,  I  will  do  it ;  they  will  think  my 
horse  fell.  They  will  never  know — never !" 

"  How  very  distraite  we  are  to-night,"  said 
a  low,  mocking  voice  at  her  side.  She  knew  it 
was  Will  Dunston :  so  without  even  glancing 
up  she  walked  over  and  joined  the  group 
around  the  fire.  She  did  not  care  to  speak  to 
him  just  now,  and  had  a  morbid  fear  that  if 
she  did,  or  if  she  looked  into  his  eyes,  she 
might  go  mad  and  weep  out  loud  her  whole 
miserable  story. 

George  and  Willie  Eaton  (two  crack  polo 
players)  were  relating  a  run  they  had  had  with 
the  stag  that  day.  All  the  Eaton  family  were 
keen  on  sport ;  and  Willie  was  the  proud  pos 
sessor  of  many  blue  ribbons.  The  girls  rode 
to  hounds  as  well  as  most  men.  They  all 
danced  well  also,  so  of  course  they  were  much 
sought  after. 

In  the  very  midst  of  the  boys'  story  Bon- 
ner  announced  the  carriages  ;  and  with  many 
pretty  fashions  of  speech  they  all  wished  each 
other  good-night. 


156  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

What  a  bore  are  all  these  sweet  lying  for 
malities  of  life — and  yet  how  inevitable ! 

"  When  glasses  are  clinking,  and  wine  glows  red, 
We'll  drink  to  you,  Sailor,  and  sing  on  to  bed." 

sang  Ruth  merrily,  leaning  over  the  bannisters 
surrounded  by  the  other  women  on  their  way 
to  bed.  The  men  sang  in  answer  from  the 
hall  below : 

"  Then  high  for  old  Sailor,  the  best  of  the  lot, 
Though  often  too  eager  and  sometimes  too  hot." 

"How  I  hate  it  all!"  moaned  Mildred,  a 
burning  flood  of  jealous  rage  tingling  through 
her  veins.  "  How  dare  they  laugh  when  I  am 
so  wretched  ?  Ah  !  how  I  wish  I  was  dead  !" 

She  walked  slowly,  like  an  old,  old  woman, 
along  the  corridor  to  her  own  room.  She 
heard  Ruth  throw  open  a  window,  then  call 
out  cheerily  to  her  companions,  "I  do  be 
lieve  it's  freezing  hard,  girls  !  We  shall  have 
skating  to-morrow  if  it  keeps  on  all  night." 
This  announcement  was  followed  by  sup 
pressed  whispers  and  giggles ;  and  then  by  the 
swish-swish  of  the  strings  as  the  girls  unlaced 
each  other's  bodices. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  157 

How  she  envied  them  their  light  hearts; 
and,  oh,  how  tired  she  was !  The  wind  wailed 
around  the  old  house  and  the  snow  fell  softly 
again  like  a  benediction  stealing  in  soothing 
silence  through  her  half-opened  window.  She 
lay  still  and  cold  and  white,  with  only  one 
prayer  in  her  broken  heart — "  Let  me  die ! 
let  me  die !" 

"Love,  art  thou  sweet  ?  then  bitter  death  must  be  ; 
Love,  thou  art  bitter  ;  sweet  is  death  to  me  ; 
O  lore,  if  death  he  sweeter,  let  me  die  !" 

TBNNTSON. 


CHAPTER  XL 

*•  Clink  on  the  ice  of  steel, 
Glorious  to  hear  and  feel  I 
Bound  of  the  balanced  beat, 
Swing  of  the  swaying  feet  1 
Poise  of  the  tilting  light, 
Fling  of  the  flashing  flight  1 
O  gladsome  rushing  glide  ! 
O  life,  and  youth,  and  pride  I" 

CYI-AILI.. 

THE  winter  moon,  surrounded  by  her  court 
iers,  the  stars,  seemed  to  be  herself  holding 
high  festival  the  night  of  the  ice-party;  up 
there  in  her  dark  blue  country  she  outrivaled 
anything  on  our  little  planet  in  brilliancy. 
The  wind,  which  had  been  so  boisterous  the 
night  before,  was  hushed ;  a  still,  intense  cold 
prevailed ;  and  the  whole  atmosphere  seemed 
waiting  and  expectant. 

The  park  and  lake  glistened  and  sparkled 
with  snow  and  ice,  illuminated  by  thousands 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  159 

of  tiny  lamps  which  swung  in  garlands  all 
around  and  across  the  lake.  It  was  the  night 
of  the  much-talked-of  fancy-dress  ice-party  on 
the  lake  in  the  grounds  of  Forest  House.  On 
the  quaint  toy  island  in  the  centre  of  the 
frozen  water  the  Blue  Hungarian  band  played 
selections  of  merry  music.  Foreign-looking 
men  and  women  glided  about  waiting  for  the 
signal  to  begin  dancing.  Gypsy-fires  twinkled 
here  and  there  on  the  banks.  Women  who 
could  not  skate  were  reclining  in  fur-lined 
chairs,  which  were  piloted  about  by  devoted 
cavaliers. 

Presently  from  out  a  green  bower  scintillat 
ing  with  shifting  vari-colored  lights,  Mildred 
arrived  on  the  scene,  accompanied  by  Will 
Dunston.  They  were  both  costumed  in  yel 
low  and  black  velvet  and  sable — in  the  Rus 
sian  style  of  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago. 
These  two  leaders  were  closely  followed  by 
Poles,  Norwegians,  Icelanders,  Greenlanders, 
Swedes,  Hollanders,  Finlanders,  and  repre 
sentatives  of  all  the  different  nationalities  of 
the  snow  and  ice  lands.  Pretty  little  Mrs. 
John  Howes  was  dressed  as  a  Polish  girl ;  in 


160  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

her  natty  cap,  tight-fitting  jacket,  and  short 
fur-edged  skirt,  with  the  beautiful  high  Polish 
boots  beneath,  she  made  a  ravishing  picture ; 
especially  so  to  Waldo  Bronson,  who  was  also 
in  Polish  costume.  He  was  nothing  if  not 
artistic,  and  was  never  known  to  cultivate  any 
but  pretty  women,  amongst  whom  his  wife, 
always  in  his  eyes  eclipsed  all  the  rest. 

Jack  Carey,  as  a  Hollander,  skated  with 
Mrs.  Pointer-Stowe,  the  wife  of  a  neighbor 
ing  magistrate,  one  of  the  jolliest  women  in 
the  county.  To  see  her  on  skates  was  a  dream. 
She  could  do  the  most  extraordinary  feats  in 
figure-skating,  and  charmed  everyone  with 
her  grace  and  sureness  of  poise. 

"Pickles"  Gale  and  Egon  Marsdon  were 
two  quaint  little  Laplanders ;  and  all  the  others 
were  assorted  in  couples  costumed  in  charac 
ter  appropriate  to  their  individuality.  So  the 
gay  procession  went  on,  circling,  retreating, 
and  advancing,  to  the  strains  of  a  wild  Hun 
garian  gypsy  measure.  The  spectators,  gath 
ered  in  groups  around  the  fires,  held  their 
breath  in  admiration. 

From  the  other  end  of  the  lake,  under  the 


THE    SHADOW     OP    DESIRE.  161 

arching  of  a  rustic  bridge,  a  pale  violet  light 
began  to  glow  and  deepen  into  amethystine 
blushes.  Gradually  this  hue  turned  to  a  saffron 
one,  whose  shadows,  melting  under  the  kisses 
of  the  changing  lights,  took  on  the  appearance 
of  a  vast  grotto  flashing  with  diamonds,  ru 
bies,  and  sapphires.  A  crowd  of  snow-sprites 
swarmed  out  like  a  flurry  of  soft- winged  birds. 
Their  feathery  robes  were  snow-white,  and 
their  hair  streamed  out  like  a  golden  glory  as 
they  flew  into  a  whirling  dance.  They  were 
led  by  the  Frost-Queen,  gleaming  with  pow 
dered  crystal.  Her  long  hair  was  silvered, 
and  streamed  over  her  shoulders  in  heavy 
sweetness.  Her  eyes  shone  big  and  bright 
under  a  casque  of  spangled  lace,  as  she  led 
her  baby-sprites,  with  swift  gliding  grace, 
down  the  shimmering  path  of  the  moonlight. 
The  lusty  North-men  and  women  followed, 
wonder-eyed,  and  eager  to  overtake  each  fairy 
form.  On  and  on  they  flew.  The  lights  and 
shadows  were  bewildering ;  and  when  the 
sprites  circled  again,  they  found  that  they  had 
lost  their  queen;  but  what  did  they  care? 
They  were  so  gay  of  heart  that  they  preferred 


162  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

to  play  at  being  chased  by  the  limpid  moon- 
rays  which  seemed  to  pursue  them  in  every 
direction. 

Far  down  the  lake,  where  it  goes  to  meet 
the  brook,  the  Frost-Queen  sped  away.  The 
moor-hens  disturbed  in  their  nests  amongst 
the  rushes  peeped  over  the  edges  with  their 
round,  shy  eyes  after  the  flying  vision ;  then 
tucked  their  heads  under  their  wings  again, 
and  whispered  softly  to  each  other  in  smoth 
ered  sleepy  voices  that  it  was  only  a  sprite. 
The  gracious  moon  sent  a  lantern  down  to 
her  which,  like  a  Will- o-the- wisp,  flitted  on 
ahead.  The  deer  dreaming  on  a  bank  near 
by  raised  their  beautiful  heads,  and  then  cud 
dled  warmer  and  closer  to  dream  again ;  and 
the  birds  and  other  wild  things  saluted  her  as 
she  passed;  for  the  fairy  people  were  their 
dearest  friends. 

The  birds  and  insects  often  sang  for  the 
fairies  when  they  danced  the  silver  hours 
away  in  the  leafy  dells  and  the  perfumed 
woodland  arbors. 

The  Frost  Queen,  who  was  none  other  than 
Ruth  Bronson,  dashed  swiftly  through  the 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  163 

keen  air,  diamonding  her  path  with  the  radia 
tions  of  her  frost-spangled  garments.  She 
laughed  aloud  for  very  joy  of  the  motion, 
her  untamed  nature  drunken  with  the  bliss  of 
such  freedom.  Suddenly  she  became  aware, 
from  a  sound  which  grew  nearer  and  nearer, 
of  steels  grating  on  the  ice  behind  her,  that 
she  was  being  followed  by  someone  who  was 
gradually  gaining  upon  her.  Balancing  her 
self  for  a  sweeping  curve,  she  saw,  as  she 
turned  for  a  second,  a  lithe,  sinewy  figure 
bending  forward  in  the  effort  to  reach  her ; 
but  all  unconscious  she  flew  on,  on,  on,  to 
where  the  willows  grew  thick  and  stooped  low 
down  to  the  frozen  brook.  Here  she  heard 
the  whirr  of  skates;  and  wheeling  around, 
poised  on  one  foot  in  a  pool  of  subtle  moon 
light,  she  was  confronted  by  the  more  subtle 
pools  of  Will  Dunston's  great  eyes. 

He  was  panting  with  his  long  chase  and  the 
mad  emotion  of  his  angry  heart. 

(i  So  you  thought  to  get  away  from  me  !  " 
he  said  breathlessly.  "  Ah  !  Ruth  !  how  you 
play  me !  How  I  hate  you  !  " 

She  was  so  startled  that  she  threw  her  hand 


164  THE     SHADOW     OF    DESIRE. 

up  and  caught  a  branch  of  a  willow  to  keep 
herself  from  falling. 

"  To  get  away  from  you  ? "  she  echoed  in 
dignantly.  "Why,  I  never  thought  of  you! 
I  only  knew  that  I  was  happy  in  my  flight, 
and  in  the  sense  of  being  alone." 

"  For  three  days  you  have  avoided  me ;  and 
why  1  Because  you  love  me  ;  and  you  know 
it  as  well  as  I — and  you  are  afraid.''  He 
seized  her  almost  roughly  by  the  wrist ;  and  if 
she  had  not  steadied  herself  against  the  tree, 
her  feet  would  have  slipped  from  under  her. 
An  awful  disgust  of  this  man  began  to  grow 
in  her  heart;  and  yet  she  could  not  resist 
his  magnetism.  This  was  always  the  old  and 
new  story  with  her  when  alone  with  him ; 
and  now  somehow  she  was  terribly  afraid  of 
her  weakness.  She  wanted  to  scream  out  for 
help ;  but  her  friends  were  too  far  away  to 
hear.  He  hurt  her  wrist,  and  a  low  moan 
escaped  her. 

"Ah,  God!  I  have  hurt  you.  Forgive 
me,  forgive  me !  "  he  cried,  stooping  and  ca 
ressing  the  injured  member  as  a  dog  might 
do.  "  Come  away  with  me,  Ruth  !  We  will 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  165 

go  to  the  Orient,  or  to  some  land  where  you 
can  be  all  my  own.  To  see  you  here  sur 
rounded  by  all  these  people  makes  me — lust 
for  murder." 

She  shivered  with  cold  and  fright,  and  the 
bough  swayed  in  her  grasp.  He  put  out  his 
arm  to  support  her.  How  small  and  svelte 
she  was  even  in  her  furs.  His  desire  burned 
fiercer. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  now,  Will!"  she  mur 
mured,  her  face  white  and  strained  as  she 
looked  back  down  the  length  of  shadowy  ice 
which  she  had  to  retrace.  "  Come,  be  good 
to  me,  dear,  and  take  me  back  to  the  lake !  " 
ehe  cried  desperately,  her  cunning  woman's 
brain  using  sweet  deceit  for  safety's  sake. 

"  I  will  never  take  you  back,  Euth.  You 
shall  never  leave  me  again  !  You  are  mine 
now — mine,  I  tell  you ;  for  you  belong  to  me 
by  every  law  of  nature  and  love." 

He  held  her  so  close  she  could  not  move 
away.  The  old  sensuality  mastered  her,  and 
their  lips  met  again. 

"  We  will  go  to-morrow,  my  dearest,  and 
leave  all  this  everyday  world  behind  us.  To- 


166  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

morrow  2  No  !  let  it  be  to-night.  Ah,  my 
love !  My  cold,  white  love !  swear  to  me 
that  you  will — swear  it ! — swear  it !  " 

The  lamps  from  the  lake  danced  like  hun 
dreds  of  fire-devils  far  off  in  the  darkness ; 
and  a  bitter  wind  began  to  wail  over  the  land. 
Ruth  stirred  uneasily  in  his  arms,  an  awful 
repugnance  filling  her  being. 

"  I — I  must  not  promise  that  now.  Let 
me  —let  me  think  about  it.'* 

"  You  make  me  hate  you  more  than  ever 
when  you  talk  like  that.  "Why  can't  you  be 
true  to  yourself  and  natural  for  once  ? " 

"  Ah !  let's  go  to  the  house !  I'm  so 
deathly  cold,''  she  cried,  trembling,  her  teeth 
chattering  more  with  fear  than  with  the 
weather. 

"  Poor  little  woman,  I'm  a  brute  to  keep 
you  standing  in  the  snow  so  long.''  And  he 
took  her  hand  while  they  both  struck  out  for 
the  lake.  "  You  would  come  with  me  if  you 
were  free,  would  you  not,  Ruth  ? "  he  asked 
after  a  long  silence. 

They  had  made  fast  headway,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  would  be  amongst  the  merry  crowd. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  167 

"Tee!  yes,  I  would  if  it  were  possible," 
she  answered  nervously,  too  much  afraid  that 
he  would  make  another  scene  if  she  did  not 
acquiesce. 

Slowly  and  surely  the  influence  of  this  man 
was  taking  a  firm  hold  upon  her  ;  and  she 
vowed  to  herself  with  a  terrified  sob  that  she 
would  never  be  alone  with  him  again,  where 
he  could  exercise  that  curious  power  which 
numbed  her  womanhood  and  made  her  forget 
her  duty. 

Gliding  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd  of 
skaters  she  found  her  husband.  Clutching 
his  arm  like  a  frightened  child,  she  whispered, 
"  Take  me  up  to  the  house,  Waldo  !  I'm  so 
tired." 

He  looked  at  her  sharply,  and  wondered 
what  was  the  matter ;  for  he  knew  that  she 
would  not  desert  such  a  pleasant  pastime  un 
less  she  was  ill.  He  feared,  then,  that  some 
thing  had  happened  to  her ;  for  she  declared 
that  she  was  perfectly  well.  "  Only  so  tired, 
dearie !"  she  answered,  clinging  nervously  to 
his  arm. 

Waldo  Bronson  never  asked  his  wife  ques- 


168  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

tions ;  he  was  too  noble,  and  too  much  a  man 
of  the  world.  He  also  knew  human  nature 
well  enough  to  be  sure  that  if  she  wanted  to 
tell  him  anything  she  would  do  so  without 
questioning,  and  that  if  he  asked  her  and  she 
did  not  want  to  tell  him,  she  would — well, 
prevaricate. 

He  felt  her  slender  limbs  tremble  against 
him  when  they  stopped  for  a  moment's  breather 
at  the  top  of  the  hill.  He  noticed  that  her 
face  was  ghastly  white,  and  that  the  corners 
of  her  mouth  drooped  piteously.  Some  un 
canny  presentiment  told  him  that  she  must 
have  undergone  an  unusual  shock  that  night 
to  cause  such  a  transformation ;  but  he  said 
never  a  word,  and  nestled  her  hand  lovingly 
under  the  sleeve  of  his  great  fur  coat ;  then 
trudged  on  in  sympathetic  silence. 

She  loved  him  more  dearly  than  ever  for 
his  silence;  and  when  she  went  to  bed  she 
begged  him  to  sit  by  her  and  hold  her  hand 
until  she  fell  asleep.  She  looked  like  a  fair 
child,  with  her  soft  hair  falling  negligently, 
and  the  dainty  lace  on  her  night-gown  cluster 
ing  around  her  throat.  Her  eye-lashes  made 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  169 

deep  blue  shadows  on  her  cheeks  as  she  slept. 
A  deep  sadness  crept  over  his  spirit,  for  he 
felt  that  he  would  not  be  with  her  much 
longer ;  he  had  a  foreboding  as  of  the  shadow 
of  death's  wings  hovering  over  him.  He  tried 
to  reason  away  such  old-fashioned  supersti 
tions  ;  but  they  would  not  go.  Softly  bend 
ing  he  kissed  her  broad,  white  forehead,  where 
the  little  curls  waved  carelessly  back.  She 
tossed  for  a  moment  in  her  sleep,  and  he  held 
his  breath  to  keep  from  awaking  her ;  then, 
turning,  tiptoed  out  of  the  room  to  his  own 
chamber.  He  did  not  care  to  return  to  the 
skaters,  his  heart  was  too  heavy ;  so  he  occu 
pied  himself  packing  his  boxes,  as  he  had  to 
leave  early  the  next  morning  for  Paris. 
While  he  was  gone,  he  and  Mildred  had 
planned  for  her  to  make  a  tour  of  visits  in  the 
neighboring  counties.  He  felt  disinclined  to 
leave  her,  she  looked  so  ill ;  but  King  Busi 
ness  was  dominant  with  Waldo  Bronson  al 
ways  ;  and  he  shut  the  lids  of  his  boxes  down 
with  a  determined  snap,  and  went  over  to  the 
window,  where  he  leaned  out  and  looked 
towards  the  lake,  with  its  still  flickering  lamps. 


170  THE     SHADOW     OF     DEBERE. 

Faint  musical  laughter  rippled  up  to  him,  as 
the  gay  revelers  made  their  way  to  the  house, 
where  a  cheery  supper  awaited  them  in 
the  large  dining-room.  He  could  not  shake 
off  the  sadness  of  his  mood ;  over  all  he 
seemed  to  feel  the  strange  shadow  of  the 
wings  of  death,  and  to  see  the  pleading,  mys 
terious  eyes  of  his  unhappy  wife,  and  the 
piteous  droop  of  her  mouth. 

The  little  snow-sprites  trooped  up  the  drive 
to  the  door,  famishing  and  sleepy.  They  had 
forgotten  all  about  the  disappearance  of  the 
Frost-Queen,  in  the  excitement  and  novelty  of 
being  allowed  to  stay  up  until  eleven  o'clock ; 
and  now  only  wanted  some  hot  bouillon — very 
earthy  nourishment  indeed  for  elves,  so  Mr. 
Holbourne  chaffingly  assured  them.  And 
then  they  went  to  bed,  tired,  but  delighted; 
and  dreamed  all  night  of  playing  tennis 
in  the  bright  courts  of  the  sky,  with  stars 
for  balls,  comets  for  racquets,  and  the 
moon  for  a  big  marquee,  where  their 
hostess,  in  the  guise  of  a  lovely  Russian 
Princess,  served  tea  and  cakes  to  them  most 
lavishly. 


THE     BHADOW     OF     DE8IKE.  171 


Wynken,  Blynken  and  Nod  one  night 

Sailed  off  in  a  wooden  shoe- 
Sailed  on  a  river  of  crystal  light 

Into  a  sea  of  dew  ; 
'Where  are  you  going,  and  what  do  you  wish  ?* 

The  old  moon  asked  the  three  ; 
1  We  have  come  to  fish  for  the  herring  fish 
That  live  in  this  beautiful  sea  ; 
Nets  of  silver  and  gold  have  we.' 
Said  Wynken, 
Blynken 
And  Nod." 

EUGKNK  FIELD. 


XII. 

11  To  dream  eo  well,  to  do  §o  ill- 
There  comes  the  bitter-sweet  that  makes  the  sin." 

LK  GALLIBHHB. 

THE  next  morning,  while  Waldo  Bronson 
was  hastily  breakfasting,  so  as  to  be  in  time 
to  catch  the  9-up  express  to  connect  with  the 
Paris  club-train,  he  was  greatly  surprised  by 
seeing  Kuth  walk  in  already  dressed  for 
traveling.  The  gray  camel's-hair  gown,  with 
waistcoat  and  edgings  of  gray  astrachan,  and 
the  soft  gray  toque  which  completed  the  cos 
tume,  made  her  look  more  childish  than 
usual.  Something  told  him  that  she  wished 
to  accompany  him  to  Paris.  She  laughed 
nervously,  and  finished  buttoning  her  gloves. 

"What  a  bore  I  am,  Waldo!  But  I'm 
going  abroad  with  you;  sudden,  isn't  it? 
Martha  packed  my  boxes  early  this  morning, 
and  here  I  am." 


THE    SHADOW     OP    DESIRE.  173 

She  poured  herself  out  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
drank  it  with  feverish  eagerness,  while  watch 
ing  him  timidly. 

"  You  see,"  she  continued,  "  I  am  the  same 
Bohemian  you  first  met.  But  joking  apart, 
Waldo,  it's  really  freezing  here,  and  I  should 
like  to  go  to  the  south — to  the  Riviera — or 
somewhere  to  get  thawed  out ;  I  haven't  been 
comfortably  warm  for  over  a  week." 

Waldo  Bronson  gushed  almost  like  a  woman, 
in  his  great  delight. 

"  This  is  indeed  delightful  of  you,  Ruth ! 
But  have  you  told  Mildred  and  everyone 
of  your  departure?  Won't  they  think  it 
strange  \ '' 

She  jumped  up  from  the  table  irritably,  and 
went  over  to  a  mirror  to  tie  on  a  veil. 

"  Why,  I  only  knew  myself  that  I  was  going 
three  hours  ago.  One  can't  always  go  through 
life  by  rule,  or  arrange  one's  affairs  before 
hand  in  cut  and  dried  fashion — and,  and  (a 
curious  expression  stealing  over  her  face) — 
Mildred  will  not  be  down  before  noon.  I've 
written  her  my  thanks,  and  asked  her  to  give 
my  farewells  to  everyone.  I  have  gotten  out 


174  THE     SHADOW     OF     DK8ITCE. 

of  all  my  visiting  engagements  by  stating 
frankly  that  I  couldn't  bear  the  idea  of  the 
six  weeks'  separation  from  you,  and  must 
therefore  beg  them  to  excuse  me  as — an  old- 
fashioned,  doting  little  silly,"  she  added  fondly, 
laughing,  and  kissing  his  head  mischievously 
on  the  top,  where  the  hair  was  beginning  to 
be  a  thing  of  the  past. 

"  Ah,  very  well !  "  he  answered,  feeling 
about  seven  feet  high  under  such  soft  bland 
ishment.  "  But  I  must  stay  in  Paris,  you 
know,  for  a  few  days,  and  then  we  can  go  on 
to  Nice  or  Monte  Carlo,  if  you  are  dis 
posed." 

At  that  moment  the  carriage  drove  up  to 
the  door ;  and  they  left  Forest  House,  with 
regret  on  his  part,  and  with  great  relief  on 
hers.  She  felt  as  though  the  air  grew  lighter 
and  more  wholesome  as  the  towers  of  the  old 
pile  disappeared  ;  and  when  the  last  lodge 
gate  closed  on  them,  she  drew  a  long  breath 
of  positive  joy,  for  she  was  beginning  to  fear 
not  only  Will  Dunston,  but  herself  more  than 
anything.  She  felt  very  small  and  mean  at 
the  result  of  her  endeavors  to  comfort  Mil- 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  175 

dred,  and  bring  her  back  to  a  better  state  of 
moral  health,  and  she  smiled  scornfully  at  her 
own  presumption. 

The  tedious  journey  to  Paris  was  over  at 
last,  and  Ruth  felt  quite  cosy  in  her  tea-gown, 
by  the  fire  in  the  boudoir  of  Mrs.  Olney,  who 
had  taken  a  charming  apartment  a  few  days 
before  for  the  season,  and  had  promised  her 
husband  to  settle  down  until  the  spring,  and 
seriously  study.  He  had  a  wild  idea  that  his 
wife  had  a  voice,  and  she  was  doing  her  best 
to  cultivate  it. 

"But  it's  awful,  perfectly  awful,  dear!" 
said  the  little  lady  in  a  very  tragic  way. 
"  You  should  hear  me  sing  Gounod's  '  Ave 
Maria ! '  I  am  sure  Our  Lady  suffers  if  the 
least  sound  of  it  is  wafted  up  there,"  she 
whispered,  looking  piously  and  solemnly  up 
at  the  fat  little  Cupids  that  were  disport 
ing  themselves  on  the  rosy  clouds  of  the 
ceiling. 

"  Aren't  you  really  going  to  hunt  any  more 
in  England  this  season  ? "  asked  Ruth,  regard 
ing  Mrs.  Olney  with  amused  interest. 

"Dear  me!   no.     Why,  I've   brought   my 


176  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

whole  stud  over  here.  Poor  Mr.  Kaneleigh 
is  in  the  most  dreadful  despair  about  it 
all." 

Mr.  Kaneleigh  was  the  youthful  protector 
in  whose  charge  her  husband  had  put  her. 
He  piloted  her  across  country  with  hounds, 
trained,  bought,  and  sold  her  horses,  and 
looked  after  her  stable  interests  generally. 
Now  he  was  planted  in  Paris  for  the  season; 
and  his  heart  was  broken  in  consequence. 
He  could  not  understand  that  indefinable 
fascination  of  the  Boulevards,  about  which 
their  votary  raves ;  for  his  heart  was  in  the 
merry  hunting  fields  of  old  England.  Even 
in  his  dreams  he  would  hear  the  beloved  cry 
of  "  Forward,  forward,  gone  away !  " 

"  We  have  two  days  a  week  with  a  very 
good  pack  at  Fontainebleau.  They  hunt  the 
wild  stag  there  ;  it  is  very  pretty  hunting. 
Sometimes  we  have  three  or  four  hours'  hard 
galloping ;  but  it's  seldom  or  never  they  get 
away.  The  stag  sticks  to  tjie  forest.  Then 
there  are  other  good  packs  which  hunt  in 
Compiegne  and  other  forests." 

Mrs.  Olney  babbled  on,  all  the  while  petting 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  177 

a  black,  lanky  lurcher  which  had  its  head  in 
her  lap. 

"  Oh,  that's  the  dog  you  found  when  you 
were  coaching  from  London  to  the  Lakes 
in  Westmoreland,  isn't  it  ? "  asked  Ruth,  of 
fering  the  animal  a  lump  of  sugar,  which  he 
refused  with  fine  disdain. 

"  Yes,  it  was  when  we  put  up  at  a  little 
place  by  the  river,  near  Ascot,  for  race-week. 
I  found  him  in  the  fields,  starving,  when  I 
went  for  a  walk  one  morning.  He  was  the 
saddest-looking  brute  you  ever  saw,  all  bones 
and  not  much  hair  to  speak  of ;  but  I  fell  in 
love  with  him  on  the  spot — legs  and  all ;  and 
took  him  back  to  the  inn  with  me.  I  found 
out  through  asking  some  villagers  that  his 
master  was  a  poacher,  and  was  at  that  time 
awaiting  trial,  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  door, 
for  killing  a  game-keeper.  Poor  '  Swipes ' 
had  been  poaching  on  his  own  account,  until 
his  star  changed,  and  I  adopted  him." 

u  But  why  do  you  call  him  Swipes  ?  What 
a  droll  name  ! 5> 

"  Why,  I  think  it  most  apropos.  I  named 
him  after  the  little  fellow  in  <  Oliver  Twist '  (I 


178  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

think  that's  the  book),  who  always  '  swiped ' 
the  handkerchiefs  at  the  fairs.  Don't  you  re 
call  it  ? " 

"No,  I  never  read  the  book,"  answered 
Euth.  "  But i  Swipes '  is  too  charming  to  be 
named  after  such  a  naughty  boy,  aren't  you, 
old  fellow  ? " 

The  dog  wagged  his  ridiculous  stump  of  a 
tail ;  and  turning  his  fine  head,  looked  her 
straight  in  the  face,  with  his  kind,  brown  eyes, 
full  of  human  nobility,  as  it  appeared  to 
Euth. 

Swipes  was  not  always  so  kind  and  docile. 
He  was  a  most  faithful  protector,  and  would  not 
allow  any  one  to  approach  his  mistress.  His 
love  for  the  coach-horn  was  quite  wonderful ; 
and  when  he  heard  the  calls,  as  the  different 
coaches  rolled  up  and  down  the  Champs- 
Elysees,  he  would  be  beside  himself  with 
joyful  excitement. 

Mrs.  Olney  explained  it  by  saying  that 
when  he  first  came  out  of  his  slough  of  de 
spond,  he  was  led  on  by  the  ringing  call  of 
"  Clear  the  road ;"  and  so  he  ever  after  asso 
ciated  his  good  fortune  with  coaching-music. 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DE8IBE.  179 

"  I  see  that  lie  knows  how  to  make  himself 
at  home,"  remarked  Euth,  as  Swipes  walked 
leisurely  over  to  a  divan,  pawed  the  best  em 
broidered  cushion  thereon,  and  curled  himself 
up  around  and  around,  then  lay  down  with  a 
soft,  luxurious  sigh. 

"  Yes,  lie  does,  indeed.  In  fact,  he  firmly 
believes  that  my  boudoir  was  arranged  for  his 
special  benefit.  He  has  wheedled  himself 
into  the  good  graces  of  my  maid,  Marie; 
but  the  conquest  of  Marie  isn't  strange,  be 
cause  the  French  are  very  devoted  to  dogs,  as 
a  rule.  No  matter  how  poor  they  are,  you 
generally  find  one  pet  dog  in  a  French 
household.  Listen  to  Swipes  growling  in  his 
sleep,  and  watch  his  limbs  quiver.  It  is  often 
so  with  him.  I  think  he  must  be  hunting 
in  his  dreams  with  his  master.  They  are 
perhaps  poaching  now  in  that  dark  wood,  and 
living  over  together  the  fight  and  the  murder. 
Swipes,  old  man !  wake  up ! "  giving  him  a 
little  pat.  "You  mustn't  dream  such  hor 
rors.''  The  dog  jumps  up  on  the  defensive, 
blinking  blindly  from  his  sudden  awakening. 
He  seems  immensely  relieved  when  he  finds 


180  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

that  the  perfumed,  silken  boudoir  is  a  reality 
and  not  also  a  dream.  Then  he  throws  him 
self  on  the  fur  robe  before  the  fire,  in  one  of 
his  most  graceful  poses,  and  thinks  of  the 
dream  he  has  just  had.  He  was  flying  with 
his  former  master,  out  of  the  wet,  cold  braken, 
leaving  behind  the  dying  keeper,  lying  in  the 
trampled  and  broken  bushes,  while  the  flitting 
moon-rays  sifted  through  the  leaves  on  to  his 
poor,  bleeding  face,  and  glazing  eyes,  up 
turned  to  the  pitiless  sky. 

#  *  #  #  * 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Mrs.  Olney,  "  I  should 
like  you  to  have  a  gallop  on  Dandy  or  St. 
James,  around  the  Bois,  because  hounds  meet 
at  Compiegne  the  day  after.  I  think  you 
would  enjoy  the  novelty  of  a  gallop  with 
the  stag  there." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  It  will  be  great  fun,  I'm 
sure.  What  time  do  you  ride  in  the  morn- 
ing«" 

"  I  generally  go  out  for  my  exercise  about 
eight  o'clock,  because  I  must  be  back  home 
in  time  to  change  my  habit  for  my  singing- 
lesson,  which  I  take  at  eleven  o'clock.  You 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  181 

should  just  watch  the  face  of  that  poor,  suf 
fering  Italian,  when  I'm  doing  my  thrills/' 
she  laughed  gayly. 

"  Nonsense !  "  replied  Euth.  "  I'm  sure 
you  sing  very  well.  I've  always  my  suspi 
cions  of  people  who  are  so  *  Uriah  Heepish.' " 

They  were  going  to  hear  Calve*  sing  in 
"  Cavalleria  Eusticana ;  "  so  they  both  hurried 
off  to  dress  for  an  early  dinner,  that  they 
might  be  in  time  to  hear  the  overture,  and 
that  lovely  solo  the  tenor  sings  behind  the 
scenes  as  a  prelude  to  the  rising  of  the 
curtain. 

Ruth  had  heard  Mascagni's  "  Cavalleria  " 
several  times  in  London  and  New  York,  and 
enjoyed  it  so  much  that  she  knew  its  every 
exquisite  sobbing  chord  and  sparkling  note ; 
and  she  would  never  lose  an  opportunity  of 
hearing  it. 

'*  I  pine  for  the  mnsic  that  is  divine ; 

My  heart  in  its  thirst  is  a  withered  flower." 
Pour  forth  the  sound  like  enchanted  wine, 
Loosen  the  notes  in  a  silver  shower  1 " 

SHBLLBT. 


CHAPTEE   XIII. 

"  Hers  was  the  sweetest  of  sweet  faces, 

Hers  the  tenderest  eyes  of  all. 
In  her  hair  she  had  the  traces 

Of  a  heavenly  coronal, 
Bringing  sunshine  to  sad  places 
Where  the  sunlight  could  not  fall." 

ERIC  MAC  KAY. 

AMONGST  the  guests  that  night  at  dinner, 
Euth  was  delighted  to  meet  again  her  old 
friend,  Ealph  Dawson,  whom  she  had  not 
seen  since  her  marriage.  He  was  looking 
stouter,  she  thought,  and  paler.  His  face 
had  that  doughy  pallor  which  is  the  result  of 
dissipation.  He  had  also  lost  his  boyish 
breeziness  of  manner,  which  used  to  amuse 
her  in  the  old  days,  when  he  pursued  her  on 
the  steamer  with  rugs  and  wraps  for  fear  she 
should  catch  cold. 

Ealph  Dawson  also  had  married  since  then. 


THE     BHAJDOW     OF     DESIKB.  183 

His  wife  was  a  little,  plump,  red-faced  woman, 
whose  one  ambition  was  for  a  title,  and  whose 
one  great  weakness  was  for  diamonds.  Her 
voice  was  that  irritating,  nasal,  high-pitched 
one  which  is  fortunately  heard  nowhere  except 
amongst  the  Americans.  Such  a  voice,  with 
its  peevish  go-as-you-please  modulations,  is 
perhaps  one  of  the  greatest  afflictions  that  a 
woman  can  be  cursed  with.  Instead  of  spend 
ing  so  much  time  on  "  higher  education," 
beautiful  toilettes,  and  "  globe  trotting,"  why 
on  earth  do  not  American  women  who  would 
cultivate  feminine  charm  pay  more  attention 
to  the  common,  ordinary,  every-day  speaking 
voice?  What  does  Lear  say  in  speaking  of 
Cordelia  ?— 

"  Her  voice  was  ever  soft, 
Gentle  and  low,  an  excellent  thing  in  woman." 

Ruth  wondered  what  misfortune  had  brought 
Ealph  Dawson  to  such  a  mesalliance,  for  al 
though  he  had  rather  deteriorated,  both  mor 
ally  and  physically,  yet  withal,  he  was  a 
gentleman  born. 

During  dinner  he  drank  more  wine  than 
was  necessary ;  and  there  was  something  coarse 


184  THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IKB. 

in  his  manner  which  had  not  been  there  be 
fore.  He  spoke  insinuatingly  about  his  dear 
est  friends,  and  fawned  on  those  whom  he 
wished  to  use.  Ruth  was  one  of  those  un 
fortunate  people  who  take  a  sincere  interest 
in  those  whom  they  like ;  and  when  disillusion 
follows — which  in  our  life  seems  inevitable — 
they  grieve  as  though  the  one  they  liked  was 
dead,  instead  of  a  living  disappointment. 

They  were  at  the  Opera  Comique. 

"  I  hear  you  are  going  on  to  Monte  Carlo 
in  a  few  days.  I  wish  I  could  get  off  and  go 
too.  But  things  are  changed  for  me  now, 
you  may  have  observed,"  Ralph  Dawson 
whispered  to  her  over  her  shoulder,  while  the 
passionate  voice  of  Calve  wailed  through  the 
house.  It  was  so  unsympathetic,  so  inartistic 
of  him  to  speak  at  that  moment,  when  he  saw 
how  she  enjoyed  every  golden  note.  His 
breath  was  hot  and  heavy  with  brandy,  and 
she  could  not  realize  that  this  vulgar,  ill-bred 
man  was  the  fresh-cheeked  English  boy  with 
whom  she  had  been  such  chums  a  short  while 
before. 

"  Can   it  be  the   fault  of  his   wife  ? "  she 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  185 

mused — and  she  watched  her  over  her  fan. 
The  poor  lady  was  most  gorgeously  attired ; 
her  round  face  looked  rather  bored  with  all 
the  music,  which  she  did  not  in  the  least 
understand. 

uE"o!  it  can't  be  her  influence,"  thought 
Ruth.  "  She  is  evidently  only  strong  in  cou 
pons,  for  the  dear  lady  seems  quite  inoffensive 
and  only  burdened  with  her  own  importance 
and  the  hope  that  Ralph  will  soon  come  into 
his  title." 

Waldo  Bronson  had  gone  over  to  an  oppo 
site  box  to  speak  to  some  friends  of  his  from 
Chicago ;  Ruth  concluded  that  he  must  be 
talking  business,  judging  from  his  animated 
manner. 

"  Poor  old  darling,"  sighed  Ruth,  looking 
over  towards  him  tenderly.  "  I  wonder  when 
you  will  decide  to  leave  business  in  its  own 
sphere.*' 

Altogether  her  evening  was  not  a  brilliant 
one.  When  they  rose  to  go,  Mrs.  Dawson 
begged  them  all  to  come  back  with  her  to 
supper.  Ruth  declined,  for  at  the  moment 
she  had  a  nervous  dislike  of  talking  to  Ralph 


186  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Dawson.  She  gave  as  her  excuse  that  she  had 
to  go  to  bed  betimes,  because  she  was  mean 
ing  to  hunt  the  next  day.  So  she  drove  home 
with  Mrs.  Olney  in  her  bijou  of  a  coupe,  while 
Waldo  Bronson  and  Ralph  Dawson  went  to  a 
cercle  where  the  blood  was  the  bluest,  and 
the  play  the  highest  in  all  Europe.  After 
bidding  everybody  a  gushing  good-night,  Mrs. 
Dawson  drove  to  her  hotel  in  solitary  grandeur. 

"I  think  Yioletta  must  be  at  home/'  re 
marked  Mrs.  Olney,  pointing  to  a  little  mas 
culine-looking  coat  and  hat  hanging  up  in  the 
hall  as  they  passed  through. 

"  Who  is  Yioletta  ? "  asked  Kuth. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  Yioletta  Lermanoff? 
I  thought  everyone  knew  her;  and  if  they 
don't,  they  should.  She  is  an  active  theoso- 
phist,  and  one  of  the  most  perfect  pieces  of 
unselfish  womanhood  I  ever  knew.  I  always 
feel  so  insignificant  and  useless  when  I  com 
pare  my  life  with  hers.  She  has  been  staying 
with  me  since  iny  mother  went  to  Italy,  and 
so  I  am  a  constant  witness  of  her  good  works 
and  her  sweet,  loving  kindnesses.  She  has  a 
class  of  poor  people  whom  she  instructs  in 


THE     SHADOW     OF    DE6IKB.  187 

English  two  or  three  times  a  week  here  in 
Paris,  besides  the  undertaking  of  many  other 
duties  which  her  theosophical  work  involves. 
This  is  one  of  her  busy  nights. 

"  Wasn't  Madame  Blavatsky,  the  great  east 
ern  traveler,  the  founder  of  theosophy  in 
Europe  ? "  asked  Euth. 

"  Yes ;  did  you  ever  meet  her  ? " 

"  Oh,  no !  but  I  have  heard  and  read  a  great 
deal  about  her,  both  good  and  bad.  She  must 
have  been  a  very  unusual  woman  to  have  had 
such  devoted  followers  and  such  jealous  ene 
mies.  I  have  read  many  interesting  things 
about  her  adventures  in  the  Orient.'* 

They  found  Madame  Lermanoff  in  the  bou 
doir,  filing  some  papers.  She  arose  when  Ruth 
and  her  friend  entered,  and  threw  away  a 
cigarette  which  she  had  been  smoking.  Ad 
vancing,  she  held  out  her  hand  to  Ruth  before 
Mrs.  Olney  could  introduce  them. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mrs.  Bronson,  that  I  was 
not  here  to  meet  you  when  you  arrived,'5  she 
said  in  perfect  English,  smiling  up  at  Euth 
with  soft  Italian  eyes —great,  gentle  eyes,  with 
long,  dusky  lashes,  and  finely  arched  eye-brows, 


188  THE     SHADOW     OF    DESIRE. 

eet  in  a  lovely  face  tinted  like  a  Murillo.  Her 
brilliant  black  hair  was  cut  short  and  brushed 
back  like  a  boy's.  She  was  gowned  in  a  plain, 
black,  tailor-made  cloth.  Mrs.  Olney  explained 
afterwards  that  she  would  never  wear  anything 
else,  and  gave  all  her  money  to  the  cause  of  the 
poor. 

Ruth  could  not  make  up  her  mind  whether 
Mme.  Lermanoff  was  very  young  or  over  forty, 
because  the  lines  of  her  face  were  as  clear  and 
fresh  as  those  of  a  child's.  She  noticed  that 
when  the  face  was  in  repose  it  was  very  sad, 
as  though  the  roses  of  her  life  had  borne  too 
many  thorns ;  and  she  wondered  what  could 
be  the  woman's  story.  She  felt  that  it  must 
be  heavy  with  some  unusual  sorrow,  or  she 
would  not,  at  so  early  an  age,  throw  herself, 
body  and  soul,  into  the  work  of  relieving  the 
pain  and  distress  of  others ;  for  it  is  seldom 
that  we  enter  into  such  sorrows  without  hav 
ing  some  great  grief  of  our  own  which  we  wish 
to  forget. 

Never  in  her  life  had  Ruth  felt  such  a  per 
fect  sympathy  for  any  woman  ;  and  a  curious 
tenderness  flooded  her  heart,  as  she  listened  to 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  189 

the  low,  foreign  voice.  The  accent  of  that 
voice,  its  tone  and  its  tenderness,  she  felt  were 
most  familiar  to  her ;  and  yet  she  knew  that 
she  had  never  met  Madame  Lermanoff  before. 

The  little  lady  was  telling  her  of  the  Paris 
branch  of  the  Theosophical  Society,  the  good 
it  did,  and  the  hope  of  happy  progress  it  held 
out  to  all  its  adherents.  Ruth  concluded  that 
they  must  be  a  very  broad-minded  and  charita 
ble  sect ;  and  she  learned  from  the  course  of 
her  new  friend's  conversation  that  now  that 

the  Duchess  de  P 's,  and  the  Countess 

A ,  with  many  of  the  other  leaders  of 

fashion  in  France,  had  gone  into  the  subject 
more  seriously,  the  society  was  beginning  to 
flourish  indeed. 

Papers  and  magazines  devoted  to  theosophy 
were  eagerly  bought  up  now  at  the  principal 
shops  and  stations  all  over  the  civilized  world, 
and  yet  only  a  few  years  ago  such  topics  had 
been  shudderingly  ignored  by  the  general 
public. 

It  was  odd  that  Mrs.  Olney  was  not  a  the- 
osophist  herself,  with  such  an  ardent  disciple 
for  an  intimate  friend ;  but  Mrs.  Olney  was 


190  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

too  fond  of  sport  and  enjoyment  to  go  in 
for  such  grave  theories ;  and,  moreover,  the 
blood  of  too  many  Catholic  generations  ran  in 
her  veins 

Euth  thought  uneasily  that  she  would  not 
long  remain  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Eng 
land  if  she  was  often  thrown  into  the  society 
of  this  fascinating  woman. 

"  Do  you  find  that  the  French  women  ac 
cept  your  doctrine  in  the  same  spirit  that  the 
women  of  other  countries  do  ? "  she  asked. 

"Ah,  no!  They  think  theosophy  a  bar 
barous  innovation — if  they  do  us  the  honor  of 
thinking  about  it  at  all,"  and  Madame  Ler- 
manoff  gazed  into  the  fire,  a  troubled  shadow 
gathering  on  her  face.  "  I  am  afraid  that 
France  will  not  be  redeemed  by  her  women,'7 
she  sighed ;  "  because  in  the  typical  French 
woman  the  spiritual  element  is  lacking.  She 
is  of  too  coarse  a  grain  to  raise  the  standard 
of  her  race  beyond  the  terre  d  terre  which 
alone  is  her  ideal.  In  France  the  man  is  ef 
feminate,  consequently  more  refined  than  the 
woman ;  but  she  is  a  smart  animal ;  and  here 
I  use  the  word  smart  advisedly,  because  it 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIKE.  191 

would  be  flattery  to  call  her  either  an  intelli 
gent  or  an  intellectual  one.  As  a  worker,  her 
life  is  spent  in  cunning  money-grabbing,  be 
cause  often  she  is  the  sole  mainstay  of  either 
a  husband  or  a  lover,  and  their  progeny.  If 
the  male  were  not  so  necessary  to  her,  or  in 
other  words,  if  she  were  less  given  to  animal 
ism,  she  would  have  more  dignity  as  a  worker. 
As  a  society  woman  her  life  is  spent  in  the 
adornment  of  her  body  to  please  her  lover's 
sensuality ;  for  the  Frenchman  of  her  class  is 
so  constituted  that  he  could  not  love  a  badly 
dressed  woman  ;  consequently  she  develops  into 
a  sort  of  clothes-mannikin,  and  sells  body  and 
soul  as  a  means  of  attainment  of  this  her  only 
ideal.  There  are  good  women  in  France,  I 
doubt  not ;  but  their  goodness  is  only  a  syno 
nym  for  bigotry,  I  fear  ;  or,  what  is  sadder 
still,  imbecility.  France  has  run  to  seed  ;  in 
fact,  is  en  plein  decadence.  A  few  of  her 
sons  who  are  not  blinded  by  race  prejudice, 
have  the  courage  themselves  to  assert  this 
truth,  and  to  indicate  its  signs  to  their  fellow 
countrymen ;  but  their  warnings  are  not  heard, 
for  the  ears  of  the  rest  are  deaf  to  such  home- 


192  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

truths.  Take,  for  example,  a  bird's  -eye  view 
of  France  at  the  present  time.  She  has  no 
statesmen-politicians,  although  her  temples  of 
government  are  crowded  with  politicians  who 
mouth  and  pose.  It  seems  that  the  word 
1  politician '  is  to  the  honest  man  another 
name  for  rogue.  France  has  painters  by  the 
score,  all,  however,  mediocrities  ;  but  has  she 
a  poet  ?  By  poet  I  mean  a  seer ;  not  a  poet 
of  Bichepin's  sickly  order.  Mention  one  name 
amongst  her  tribe  of  rhymsters  and  litterateurs 
of  a  singer  that  sounds  a  note  of  faith,  hope,  or 
love,  for  something  higher  or  better  than  the 
base  realities  of  the  day  and  hour.  Faith  is  a 
farce,  hope  a  dream,  love  a  delusion;  they 
never  get  beyond  this  refrain  when  they  do 
not  touch  the  lower  notes  of  life,  and  sink 
their  talent  into  puerile  vulgarities.  The  men 
of  talent  (and  they  are  many,  I  admit)  have 
got  into  a  rut  of  pessimistic  cynicism,  maudlin 
and  unwholesome.  In  the  whole  of  France 
to-day  there  is  not  a  single  man  of  genius ;  and 
one  of  the  reasons  for  this  is  that  the  French 
took  Voltaire  au  serieux,  from  which  date  the 
reign  of  materialism  set  in  ;  and  ever  since 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  193 

France  has  been  groveling  to  the  monster, 
until  she  herself  has  become  a  reflex  of  its 
hideous  image." 

Mrs.  Olney,  who  seldom  went  below  the 
surface  of  anything,  was  shocked  at  such  vio 
lent  expressions,  for  she  adored  Paris  and  the 
Parisians ;  but  Ruth  showed  the  greatest  ap 
preciation  of  every  word. 

After  they  had  finished  drinking  some  hot 
bouillon,  Madame  Lermanoff  opened  an  en 
ameled  Russian  cigarette-case,  and  offered 
them  a  most  delicious  cigarette,  rolled  in  a 
petal  of  the  lotus-flower. 

"  They  are  sent  to  me  regularly  by  a  friend 
in  Malay,5'  she  said  softly,  gazing  dreamily  at 
Ruth,  as  she  proffered  her  a  lighted  match. 
Somehow  Madame  Lermanoff  did  everything 
differently  from  other  women.  Every  move 
ment  of  her  plump  little  body  had  a  fasci 
nation  of  its  own.  Her  hands  were  very 
white,  with  long,  tapering  fingers;  and  she 
smoked  her  cigarette  with  the  grace  of  a 
Castilian. 

On  the  way  to  their  rooms,  Ruth  impul 
sively  put  her  arm  around  her  and  kissed  her 


194  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

good-night  on  her  broad,  low  forehead.  She 
felt  that  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  to  do. 
It  seemed  as  though  she  had  known  and  loved 
her  not  only  in  this  life  but  in  many  others. 

Madame  Lermanoff  kissed  her  in  return  on 
both  cheeks,  in  her  gentle  way.  "  Good 
night  !  "  she  murmured.  "  I  shall  probably 
not  see  you  until  dinner  to-morrow,  as  your 
train  leaves  early.  I  hope  you  will  have  a 
fine  run." 

"  Good-night !  "  echoed  Kuth  tenderly.  All 
through  the  night  she  dreamed  of  flying 
through  a  strange  new  world,  guided  by  a 
glorious  angel,  with  the  patient  face  and 
sweet  shining  eyes  of  Yioletta  Lermanoff. 
The  creatures  who  lived  in  that  strange,  new 
world  "  did  unto  others  as  they  would  be  done 
by ; "  and  no  pain,  no  tears,  and  no  disgrace 
existed  there.  The  air  was  purified  with  the 
incense  of  good-will.  Strange  golden -hearted 
flowers  nodded  to  her  as  she  passed.  Eare 
purple  and  cream  orchids,  with  their  cascades 
of  blossoms,  clung  lichen-like  to  tiny  rosy 
clouds  which  swam  about  languidly  on  the 
crimson  and  amber  sky.  As  they  floated 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  195 

along,  the  orchids  kissed  her  happy  face  with 
their  perfumed  petals.  The  world  around  her 
vibrated  with  millions  of  harps,  which  flung 
out  to  her  their  silver  tones.  The  wind  flew 
by,  whispering  of  peace.  Beautiful  forms 
flew  around  her,  shining  with  a  wondrous  joy. 
Dear  eyes  that  she  felt  she  had  loved  some 
where  smiled  at  her  from  out  the  pearly, 
mystic  lights ;  and  above  and  throughout  all 
this  strange,  new  world  rolled  arid  reverberated 
the  music  of  infinite  peace  and  happiness. 
She  was  always  conscious  of  the  guiding 
hand  and  beacon  eves  of  Violetta  LermanofL 

V 

"  In  the  fields  of  immortality 
My  spirit  should  at  first  have  worshiped  thine, 
A  divine  presence  in  a  place  divine." 

SHBLLBT. 


CHAPTER    XIY. 

"  Merry  it  is  in  the  good  green  wood 

When  the  mavis  and  merle  are  singing  ; 
When  the  deer  sweeps  by,  and  the  hounds  are  in  cry. 
And  the  hunter's  horn  ia  ringing." 

WALTER  SCOTT. 

RUTH  and  her  husband,  Mrs.  Olney,  and  Mr. 
Kaneleigh,  caught  the  early  train  for  Corn- 
pi  6gne  the  next  morning,  just  as  it  was  moving 
out  of  the  station.  On  arriving  at  the  old  inn 
they  had  a  jolly  breakfast  a  la,  fourchette. 
The  men  went  in  advance  with  the  hunters  ; 
and  Ruth  and  Mrs.  Olney  drove  on  leisurely 
to  the  meet,  which  was  about  six  miles  off,  in 
the  heart  of  the  forest,  where  they  mounted 
and  waited  for  hounds  to  draw. 

A  big  stag  had  been  harbored,  so  they 
were  informed ;  and  as  the  wind  was  south 
erly,  and  the  sky  cloudy,  they  had  promise  of 
a  good  day.  The  master  and  the  hunt-serv- 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  197 

ants  wore  the  same  "  pink "  that  they  do  in 
England ;  and  over  their  shoulders  were  slung 
large  French  horns,  on  which  they  blew  quaint 
old  calls  to  each  other,  as  they  galloped  about 
the  forest.  Several  of  them  also  carried  a 
short  sword  with  which  to  "  serve >J  the  stag. 
Just  before  they  laid  hounds  on,  a  coach 
went  by  with  a  gay  party  of  passengers  ;  and 
the  guard  played  "  Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay  "  as  a 
parting  salute,  while  the  coach  disappeared 
down  the  long  avenue  of  trees,  which  aroused 
the  stately  old  chestnuts  and  made  them  wrath 
with  such  nineteenth-century  levity. 

The  stag,  who  was  feeding  in  a  glen  close 
by,  surrounded  by  his  sweet-eyed  wives,  lifted 
his  magnificent  head,  stared  at  the  advancing 
body  of  horsemen  and  hounds  for  a  second 
with  wild,  startled  eyes,  wheeled  and  made 
off  into  the  midst  of  the  dense  woods.  All 
through  the  run  the  hunt-servants  played  on 
the  French  horns  while  galloping  about. 
Every  note  bore  a  different  significance  to  the 
initiated.  They  could  tell  by  its  musical  calls 
whether  the  stag  was  running,  whether  hounds 
were  checked,  whether  the  stag  was  beat,  and 


198  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

whether  it  was  the  death.  The  effect  of  the 
noise  on  the  huge  boulders  and  stones  of  the 
forest  was  very  weird;  and  as  the  long,  wail 
ing  notes  of  the  horn  rang  through  the  trees, 
Ruth  was  wafted  back  in  fancy  to  some  hun 
dreds  of  years  ago.  The  grass-rides  were  peo 
pled  for  her  with  ladies  of  the  court,  wearing 
flowing  velvets  and  laces,  and  large  round 
hats,  adorned  with  waving  plumes,  which 
nodded  gracefully  as  they  galloped  about  on 
cream-colored  steeds,  accompanied  by  pic 
turesque  cavaliers. 

In  the  foremost  of  the  van  rode  the  young 
king,  handsome  and  dSbonnalrc,  not  knowing 
the  cloud  which  was  hovering  over  his  beloved 
France.  All  these  ghostly  people,  of  a  glo 
rious  past,  galloped  on  ghostly  steeds  around 
and  about  her ;  and  she  was  only  brought  back 
to  the  nineteenth  century  by  hearing  Mr. 
Kaneleigh  say,  "  Look !  he's  done.  They  are 
going  to  *  serve  '  him."  She  would  not  wait 
to  witness  that  bloody  operation,  but  turned 
away  and  trotted  off  to  the  inn.  She  could 
hear  them  playing  the  death-chant  for  a  long 
way.  Rapidly  changing  their  habits  for  dry 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  199 

clothing,  they  just  managed  to  catch  the  five 
train  back  for  Paris  ;  and  their  hunters  were 
all  brought  on  by  the  next  train. 

u  Let's  all  dine  in  our  tea-gowns  to-night. 
I'm  fearfully  tired,  aren't  you  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Olney,  dragging  herself  up  the  stairway. 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  bit  fatiguing  galloping  about 
at  racing  pace  for  over  two  hours ;  but  your 
dear  old  'Dandy*  carried  me  beautifully. 
What  a  sweet-tempered  horse  he  is." 

"  Yes,  isn't  he  2  I  bought  him  in  Leicester 
shire  ;  he  had  been  ridden  with  the  Quorn  by 
a  little  girl  of  fifteen  ;  isn't  it  marvelous  how 
such  a  young  girl  could  manage  that  strong 
eighteen-stone  beast.  They  say  that  she  went 
as  straight  as  a  bird  over  that  big  country." 

"  Well,  no.  I  don't  think  it  marvelous," 
answered  Ruth.  "  I  think  I  rode  with  more 
courageous  enthusiasm  when  I  was  fifteen 
than  I  do  now.  Too  much  worldly  experi 
ence  and  frivolity  takes  one's  nerve  away,  I 
think." 

At  dinner  Ruth  wore  a  soft  white  silk-tulle 
tea-gown,  with  a  long  flowing  paletot  of  thick 
gold-colored  crepe,  studded  all  over  with  a 


200  THE     SHADOW     OP     DB8IRE. 

frost-work  of  tiny  crystal  beads.  It  was  a 
creation  of  Felix. 

The  painter,  Monsieur  Yan  Brent,  dined 
with  them  that  night ;  also  a  Mr.  Lewvanski, 
a  young  Polish  exile,  of  whom  Mrs.  Olney 
was  rather  fond.  Mr.  Lewvanski  had  a  mel 
ancholy  voice,  and  he  taught  Mrs.  Olney  to 
sing  sad,  wild,  national  songs  in  duet  with 
him.  Mr.  Van  Brent  was  painting  Mrs. 
Olney's  portrait.  He  often  came  to  see  her 
just  to  catch  the  changing  lights  and  shadows 
of  her  piquant  face.  Mr.  Van  Brent  was  a 
sad-looking,  dark  man,  with  the  soft  manners 
of  a  luxurious  panther.  Mrs.  Olney  assured 
Ruth  that  when  she  was  sitting  for  him  she 
was  afraid  to  move,  for  fear  he  would  show 
his  claws  ;  for  she  was  quite  convinced  that 
he  had  claws,  because  he  was  so  fascinating, 
and  purred  so  comfortably. 

While  poking  about  in  his  studio  one  day, 
Mrs.  Olney  came  across  a  human  skeleton 
hung  up  011  the  wall,  head  downwards.  It 
was  gilded,  and  looked  as  though  misfortune 
or  Van  Brent  had  gained  the  upper  hand 
of  it. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IBE.  201 

"  Are  you  admiring  my  golden  treasure  ? " 
murmured  Yan  Brent  at  her  shoulder.  She 
turned  quickly,  in  time  to  see  a  faint  smile 
disappearing  from  his  sombre  face. 

"  What  a  curious  caprice  to  gild  a  helpless 
skeleton,  and  stand  him  on  his  head,"  she 
said,  with  a  curl  of  disapproval  on  her  severe 
little  mouth. 

t(  Oh,  he  was  only  our  common  enemy — a 
German  soldier  that  I  picked  up  dead  on  the 
battlefield." 

He  turned  away,  and  walked  over  to  a  little 
table  at  the  window,  where  he  showed  her  a 
portrait-picture  of  a  fair  girl-child,  swinging 
in  a  world  of  spring  blossoms  and  tender 
green  leaves.  The  child's  eyes  were  clear 
blue  pools  of  innocent  wonder.  What  a  dual 
nature  was  that  of  Yan  Brent ;  for  he  must 
have  been  in  harmony  with  all  things  poetical, 
to  have  painted  such  an  ideal  bit  of  youth  and 
springtime. 

Euth  talked  with  him  of  many  mutual 
friends  in  England,  where  Mr.  Yan  Brent 
was  a  great  favorite.  She  loved  to  watch  the 
slow,  quiet  movements  of  his  graceful  hands, 


202  THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IBE. 

and  the  far-away  look  in  his  brown  eyes.  She 
wondered  whether  he  had  a  secret  sorrow,  or 
whether  his  artistic  soul  was  harrowed  by  the 
unromantic  appetite  of  hungry  little  Mrs. 
Olney,  who  was  enjoying  her  dinner  with  the 
relish  that  health  and  outdoor  exercise  lend 
their  votaries. 

"  We  may  live  without  poetry,  music,  and  art ; 
We  may  live  without  conscience,  and  live  without  heart ; 
We  may  live  without  friends  ;  we  may  live  without  books  ; 
But  civilized  man  cannot  live  without  cooks. 
He  may  live  without  books— what  is  knowledge  but  grieving  ? 
He  may  live  without  hope— what  is  hope  but  deceiving  ? 
He  may  live  without  love—what  is  passion  but  pining  ? 
But  where  is  the  man  who  can  live  without  dining  f" 

OWBK  MEREDITH. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

*'  Art  thou  poor,  yet  hast  thou  golden  slumbers  ? 

Ah,  sweet  content. 
Art  thou  rich,  yet  is  thy  mind  perplexed  ? 

Ah,  punishment. 

Doet  thou  laugh  to  see  how  fools  are  vexed 
To  add  to  golden  numbers  golden  numbers  ? 
Ah,  sweet  content." 

.  DBKKEB. 

A  GLEAM  of  blue  sea,  and  white  flashes  from 
glimpses  of  the  Alpes  Maritimes.  Then 
tropical  foliage  and  flowers,  and  the  long,  gray 
road  winding  along  the  Riviera  and  over  the 
mountains.  Then  pretty  little  villas  of  yellow, 
blue,  pink  and  white  stone,  with  the  bright 
rose-geranium  flowers,  peeping  and  tumbling 
over  the  high  wall.  Palms,  olives,  and  all  the 
wealth  of  leaf  and  blossom  of  that  balmy 
country  with  its  brilliant  sunshine  and  south 
ern  sky. 


204  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Down  below  where  the  rocks  slept  in  the 
caressing  tide,  the  violet  water  purpled  and 
darkened  into  amethystine  pools  under  the 
shadows  of  the  cliffs.  As  the  express  whirled 
along,  Euth  leaned  back  on  the  cushions  of 
the  carriage  and  reveled  in  all  this  color  and 
beauty.  She  was  in  a  state  of  pleasant  languor. 
The  fair  aspect  of  the  land  soothed  and  de 
lighted  her  southern  nature.  She  closed  her 
eyes  to  that  almost  inaudible  wail  of  "  sui 
cide  !  the  paradise  of  the  suicide ! "  which 
every  stone  and  wave  cries  out  throughout  the 
Mecca  of  the  gambler.  She  even  banished 
from  her  memory  the  time  when  she  was  at 
Monte  Carlo  before  with  her  first  husband ; 
for  that  was  a  distressful  time.  She  only  felt 
comfortable  now,  and  at  peace  in  the  knowledge 
that  everything  was  beautiful.  Little  thought 
she  gave  to  the  leprous  spirit  of  the  land,  or  to 
the  desolate  sobs  of  the  lost  souls  which  haunt 
the  Riviera  and  are  borne  on  the  spray  and  the 
wind  over  the  Mediterranean. 

Her  husband  had  wired  for  rooms  up  on 
the  hill  near  the  Casino,  at  Monte  Carlo. 
From  their  sitting-room  window,  where  they 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  205 

could  see,  on  a  clear  day,  the  island  of  Corsica, 
where  the  knife  prevails,  and  each  man  "  has 
it  in  "  for  his  neighbor. 

"  I  should  like  to  try  my  luck  at  the  tables, 
dearie,  just  once,  you  know,  before  we  return 
home,''  Ruth  said  gayly,  as  they  tripped  up 
the  stairs  of  the  Casino  the  following  night. 
Waldo  Bronson  laughed  at  her  naughty  pro 
pensities. 

"  They  say  that  beginners  break  the  bank 
very  often, ''  he  answered.  "And  I  reckon 
you'll  have  rare  good  fortune,  because  you 
touched  that  man  who  was  murdered  in  the 
streets  last  night.  Poor  wretch!  What  a 
shame  it  was.  They  say  that  he  was  only  a 
workingman,  and  that  it  was  by  a  mere  fluke 
that  he  won,  as  he  knew  nothing  of  the  game ; 
a  looker-on  told  him  to  leave  his  pile  on  the 
cloth,  and  with  the  next  turn  of  the  cards  he 
made  a  fortune.  On  going  out  of  the  Casino 
he  met  a  friend  at  the  entrance ;  and  to  him 
he  confided  his  good  luck.  The  friend  fol 
lowed  him,  and  when  they  came  to  a  dark 
street,  stabbed  him  in  the  back,  and  made  off 
with  the  winnings." 


206  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

"  Some  of  the  natives  here  told  you  all  about 
it,  I  suppose  ? '*  inquired  Ruth. 

"  Yes,  these  people  will  talk  you  deaf  on  the 
slightest  encouragement.5' 

On  the  way  from  the  station  the  night 
before  they  had  been  stopped  in  the  road 
by  a  crowd  who  were  gathered  around  the 
body  of  the  murdered  man  ;  and  Ruth  had 
stepped  out  of  the  fiacre  and  pushed  her  way 
through  the  people,  thinking  with  her  usual 
impulsiveness  that  she  could  render  him  some 
relief  in  case  he  was  only  wounded,  but  she 
saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  all  over ;  so  she 
had  turned  away  with  a  sickening  feeling,  and 
driven  on  to  the  hotel. 

The  gambling  rooms  were  crowded,  as  they 
always  are  at  that  time  of  the  year,  with  a 
curious,  cosmopolitan  mass.  At  one  of  the 
roulette  tables,  Ruth  noticed  a  queer,  little 
dried-up  looking  Turk,  wearing  a  red  fez. 
He  was  so  absorbed  in  his  "  system  "  that  he 
only  saw  his  silver  and  the  wheel.  He  had 
about  twenty-five  numbers  going  all  the  time. 
When  the  croupier  was  about  to  rake  his 
money  in  he  would  look  more  determined  and 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  207 

bet  more  heavily.  How  eager  and  hardened 
most  of  the  players  looked !  One  young  fair- 
haired  demi^nondaine  was  sitting  at  the  trente- 
et-quarante  table.  Her  pretty  baby  face  was 
pale  and  strained,  as  each  time  the  monotonous 
voice  of  the  croupier  called  out  "  Rouge  gagne, 
noirperd"  or  vice  versa,  throughout  all  the 
wretched  gamut  of  the  game.  She  had  a  fancy 
for  noir ;  and  when  for  the  thirteenth  time 
the  relentless  voice  echoed  over  to  her,  "  rouge 
gagne,  noir  perd"  her  trembling  lips  grew 
white  under  the  paint.  Tossing  her  arms 
frantically  over  her  head,  she  ran  out  of 
the  room,  crying  as  though  to  break  her 
heart.  The  long  hours  of  gambling  had 
weakened  her  nerves  and  emptied  her  purse, 
a  purse  which  at  its  best  was  very  irregularly 
filled. 

Ruth  heard  afterwards  that  the  girl  had 
thrown  herself  over  the  rocks  into  the  sea; 
but  finding  the  water  very  cold,  and  being  able 
to  swim  a  little,  she  had  struck  boldly  out  for 
the  shore,  screaming  for  help  all  the  way. 
It  was  all  very  pitiful  as  well  as  comical ;  and 
Ruth,  who  had  never  been  an  advocate  of  the 


208  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBJE. 

cold  plunge,   thought   that    perhaps  after  all 
there  might  be  some  good  in  it. 

Fortune  attended  Ruth,  as  it  generally  does 
beginners  at  Monte  Carlo.  Every  stake  she 
made  was  doubled,  until  the  heap  of  bank 
notes  became  quite  important ;  so  much  so 
that  a  crowd  began  to  gather  around  to  watch 
her  "  system.''  But  she  had  no  "  system  ; " 
she  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  fatal 
word  that  maddens  so  many  ;  she  simply  left 
the  money  on  the  tables  to  be  swept  away  by 
the  inexorable  rake  of  the  croupier,  or  to  be 
doubled,  as  luck  willed.  "  jRouge  gagne,  noir 
perd  "  was  the  cry  at  every  turn  of  the  cards. 
She  grew  giddy ;  and  the  faces  gathered 
around  and  opposite  her  seemed  to  swim 
like  little  black  motes  in  the  air.  She  was 
dimly  conscious  of  a  familiar  face  and  aston 
ished  black  eyes  staring  at  her  from  out  the 
dense  crowd,  but  she  was  too  excited  to  think. 
She  instinctively  took  up  the  pile  of  notes  and 
placed  them  on  rouge,  as  the  dealer  proffered 
her  a  new  pack  of  cards  to  cut ;  a  compliment 
which  it  is  customary  to  pay  to  all  bold  fa 
vorites  of  chance.  She  cut  them  once  and 


THE    SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  309 

returned  them  to  him  with  a  smile  on  her  face 
which  said  plainly — "  nothing  will  turn  my 
fortune  to-night." 

" Rouge  gagne,  noir  perd."  Won  again! 
The  bystanders,  who  were  sticking  little  holes 
on  the  red  spots  of  their  betting  books,  said 
that  they  had  never  seen  such  a  wonderful 
run  on  rouge.  Waldo  Bronson  who  was  stand 
ing  at  his  wife's  elbow,  whispered,  "  Come, 
Ruth,  I  wouldn't  play  any  more.  You've 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  whole  room. 
Come  along,  dear.  Let's  go."  But  she  paid 
no  heed  to  him ;  and  suddenly  changing  her 
tactics,  placed  her  money  on  noir.  "Nbir  gagne, 
rouge  per  d"  The  man  paid  her  the  notes  due 
as  her  winnings,  and  rising  thus  addressed  the 
crowd :  "  Messieurs  et  Mesdames :  rien  ne  va 
plus.9'  Euth  reached  out  and  drew  in  the 
pretty  papers  with  a  queer  little  chuckle  of 
delight.  She  was  as  pleased  at  the  novelty  of 
it  as  a  child  might  be  at  the  excitement  of 
a  new  game,  and  counted  one,  two,  three,  four, 
five  hundred  thousand  francs.  She  gave  a 
great  gasp  as  she  looked  up  at  her  husband 
with  a  startled,  frightened  face. 


210  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

«Why— why,  Waldo,  I  had  no  idea.  I 
shouldn't  take  it,  should  I?"  she  asked  in 
amazement. 

"  Of  course  you  should  take  it.  You  won 
it,  didn't  you  ? "  he  replied,  laughing  at  her 
innocence,  and  wondering  why  women  were 
so  naive.  He  and  his  friends  at  the  clubs  had 
never  had  any  hesitancy  about  pocketing  the 
cheques  exchanged  with  each  other  over  the 
poker  table  ;  and  he  did  not  understand  her 
feeling  about  it.  She  seemed  to  think  it  un 
fair  and  not  legitimate.  Women  are  invaria 
bly  more  delicate  than  men  about  gambling 
affairs — in  the  beginning. 

Glancing  up,  Waldo  Bronson  suddenly  ex 
claimed  :  <c  By  Jove,  there's  Dunston." 

Will  Dunston,  who  had  been  watching  the 
game  for  the  past  hour,  now  came  round  and 
spoke  to  them. 

"  I  only  got  here  to-night,  and  hearing  from 
the  hotel  people  that  you  were  all  here,  I 
came  over  to  try  and  find  you,"  he  said 
hastily.  "Dear  me,  what  a  rich  little  lady 
you  are,  Mrs.  Bronson.  How  on  earth  are  you 
going  to  take  all  that  wealth  away?  You  will 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  211 

have  to  pnt  some  one  on  guard  until  the  banks 
open  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  think  we  can  manage  it,"  she 
answered,  looking  at  her  husband,  and  nerv 
ously  folding  the  notes.  "  Will  you  put  them 
in  your  pocket  for  me,  Waldo,  until  we  get 
home?" 

They  walked  back  to  the  hotel  in  the  warm 
night,  while  the  moon  played  great  pranks 
with  the  mountains  and  the  sea.  Ruth  had 
never  remembered  seeing  Will  Dunston  look 
so  sad  and  handsome.  She  noticed  with  a  start 
that  he  wore  crape,  and  her  hand  closed  on  hia 
arm  in  silent  sympathy. 

The  three  strolled  along  slowly  until  they 
came  to  one  of  the  benches  in  the  Casino 
grounds,  overlooking  the  Mediterranean.  The 
palms  around  them  nodded  sleepily  in  the 
drowsy  air.  A  yacht  was  riding  at  anchor  not 
far  out  over  the  water,  and  her  bells  struck 
eleven  in  a  clear  and  silvery  tone.  Tiny 
gleams  of  light  shone  from  her  port-holes,  and 
dim  forms  could  be  faintly  seen  moving  up 
and  down  on  her  deck.  The  tropical  foliage 
of  the  Casino  grounds  threw  strange  shadows 


212  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

across  the  walks.  High  up  on  the  grassy  hill, 
a  huge  palm  tree  towered  solemnly,  standing 
alone  there  against  the  moonlight  flecked  sky. 

Will  Dunston  offered  Waldo  Bronson  a 
cigar,  and  the  two  men  smoked  for  some  min 
utes  without  speaking. 

"  I — I  am  the  bearer  of  sad  news,  though 
possibly  you  may  know  through  the  papers," 
said  Will  Dunston  hesitatingly.  "But  Mil 
dred  is  dead." 

Euth  felt  as  though  some  one  had  dealt  her 
an  awful  blow,  which  deprived  her  of  speech 
and  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Mildred  dead,"  echoed  Waldo  Bronson 
incredulously.  "Why,  when  I  last  saw  her 
she  was  in  the  best  of  health  and  spirits.  How 
did  it  happen  ? " 

"  Well,  you  know,  she  was  always  riding 
horses  that  were  too  much  for  her.  About 
four  days  ago  hounds  met  in  the  neutral 
country.  Holbourne  had  a  shooting  party  of 
his  own  at  the  time  and  couldn't  go.  She 
asked  me  to  accompany  her,  but  I — I  had  an 
engagement  in  town,  and  was  busy  packing 
and  writing  letters.  Besides,  I  had  had  a  hard 


THE    SHADOW    OF    DESIRE.  213 

gallop  the  day  before,  and  wasn't  very  keen  on 
going.  So  Mildred  drove  on  to  the  meet  alone. 
We  didn't  know  that  she  had  sent  on  that  new 
hunter  she  had  just  bought  out  of  Ireland. 
He  is  a  good  sort  there,  I  suppose,  but  a  rak 
ing,  tearing,  unmanageable  brute  in  a  cramped 
country.  She  shouldn't  have  attempted  to 
ride  him  to  hounds  before  she  had  hacked 
him  a  bit  and  learned  his  mouth.  "Well — she 
was  killed.  Her  horse  fell  with  her  into  one 
of  those  beastly  gravel-pits.  When  they  picked 
her  up  her  neck  was  broken.  The  hunt-groom 
who  was  with  her  said  that  when  hounds  went 
away  and  the  field  spread  out  to  gallop,  she 
was  going  quietly  and  had  her  horse  well  in 
hand,  but  when  they  had  been  going  about  ten 
minutes,  he  noticed  that  she  did  not  steady  her 
horse  at  timber,  which  he  rapped  several  times 
unpleasantly,  and  once  he  came  a  cropper  in  a 
ditch  on  the  off  side ;  but  she  managed  to  keep 
her  seat  while  the  horse  scrambled  out  and  flew 
on — flew  so  fast  that  she  soon  outdistanced  the 
whole  field.  Hounds  checked  for  a  moment, 
and  then  veered  to  the  left ;  but  Mildred  gal 
loped  straight  ahead.  Her  groom  and  another 


214  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

rider  near  yelled,  '  Ware  gravel-pit ! '  But 
she  paid  no  attention,  or  perhaps  didn't  hear ; 
and  kept  on.  The  master  and  the  whole  hunt 
drew  in  their  hunters  about  half  a  field  behind 
and  watched  her  take  that  awful  leap  into 
eternity.  They  were  powerless  to  stop  her  or 
help  her  in  any  way.  Several  of  the  people 
whispered  that  it  was  the  most  terribly  delib 
erate  suicide  that  anyone  could  conceive.  They 
all  waited,  half  paralyzed  with  fear,  until  sud 
denly  up  the  side  of  the  opposite  bank  crawled 
the  riderless  horse.  He  wheeled  about  and 
galloped  after  the  hounds,  which  were  rap 
idly  disappearing  over  a  hill.  The  master 
and  several  of  her  friends  went  up  to  the  edge 
of  the  pit  and  looked  over ;  and  there  they 
saw  poor  Mildred  lying  below — her  habit  torn 
and  stained  with  blood  and  earth.  She  was 
quite  dead  when  they  picked  her  up.  After 
they  brought  her  home  she  lay  on  the  sofa  for 
quite  two  hours  before  they  could  find  Hoi- 
bourne,  who  was  shooting  in  one  of  the  big 
outlying  covers.'5 

"  Poor  Mildred  !  "  sighed  Waldo  Bronson. 
"  But  something  tells  me  that  she  isn't  to  be 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  215 

wholly  pitied.  I  have  often  noticed  that  she 
was  rather  reckless  and  unhappy.  She  never 
feared  danger  in  the  hunting-field.  I  have 
sometimes  wondered  if  she  and  Holbourae 
got  on  well  together.'* 

He  gazed  far  out  over  the  glinting,  golden 
pathway  of  the  moon  adown  the  water,  with  a 
moist,  suspicious  sparkle  in  his  eyes.  He  had 
been  fond  of  Mildred,  as  he  was  fond  of  all 
amiable  and  pretty  women. 

"  Oh  !  yes,  I'm  sure  they  got  on  swimming 
ly,  for  I  never  saw  anyone  grieve  as  Hoi- 
bourne  did  when  he  saw  how  fearfully 
crushed  Mildred  was.  Her  horse  must  have 
fallen  on  her.  You  remember  what  beautiful 
hands  she  had.  Well,  in  her  death-struggle 
she  must  have  clenched  them  horribly;  for 
when  her  gloves  were  cut  off  they  were  found 
all  distorted  and  clotted  with  blood.  Ah,  God ! 
I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it ;  and  still  I  am  com 
pelled  by  some  morbid  influence  to  relate  each 
painful  detail  to  you."  Will  Dunston  strode 
fiercely  up  and  down. 

"  Holbourne  does  nothing  but  blame  him 
self  for  the  death  of  the  poor  child.  He  re- 


216  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

iterates  that  if  he  had  been  more  attentive 
and  tried  to  understand  his  wife  better  she 
would  not  have  killed  herself.  He  firmly  be 
lieves  that  it  was  suicide ;  but  of  course — 
that's  all  nonsense." 

He  breathed  heavily,  and  gazed  in  a  fasci 
nated  way  down  at  the  little  waves  that  were 
licking  the  green  moss  on  the  stones  below 
like  the  tongues  of  snakes.  To  his  heated 
fancy  they  were  creeping  up  to  sting  him  into 
new  torture.  Deep  down  in  the  phosphorescent 
water  he  saw  the  dead  face  of  the  woman  he 
had  destroyed.  Her  full  red  lips,  which  had 
once  clung  to  his  so  passionately,  were  sealed 
now  forever  with  their  own  blood.  He  could 
even  see  her  long,  luxuriant  black  hair,  float 
ing  and  drifting  with  the  ebbing  tide.  He 
knew  the  scent  and  softness  of  it  well,  and 
almost  shrieked  aloud  as  the  heavy  bloom  of 
a  plant  he  passed  brushed  his  cheek  gently. 
The  wind  took  up  the  sound  of  her  voice  and 
reproached  him.  His  one  great  desire  was  to 
be  with  Ruth  again ;  so  after  the  funeral  he 
had  hurried  away.  Even  when  the  earth 
rattled  on  Mildred's  coffin,  and  he  heard  as  in 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DB6IBE.  217 

a  dream  the  rector's  voice  murmuring  "  dust 
to  dust,5'  he  saw  the  fair,  mocking  face  of  Ruth 
Bronson  smiling  at  him  from  the  white  rose 
memorial  wreaths  that  had  been  offered  by 
loving  hearts  to  the  woman  who  had  given 
him  her  all,  and  who  was  now  lying  low  at  his 
feet. 

When  it  was  all  over  he  hurried  back  to  the 
house,  and  made  every  possible  haste  for  his 
journey.  It  had  become  a  race  of  life  and 
death  with  him  now,  this  chase  after  the 
one  woman  who  had  outdone  him.  Her 
silent  indifference  enraged  him.  He  remem 
bered  now  that  whenever  he  had  hurt  her  she 
had  been  kind  to  him  only  through  womanly 
fear ;  and  he  longed  for  her  more  than  ever 
before.  The  weakness  she  had  shown  for  him 
he  knew,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  was  only  the 
effect  of  his  own  indomitable  will  power ; 
and  he  had  conquered  her,  in  a  degree,  by  the 
infectious  fever  of  his  own  passion.  As  he 
looked  down  at  her  now,  the  moonlight  made 
her  skin  look  like  the  creamy  leaf  of  a  mag 
nolia-flower.  He  saw  that  she  was  crying. 
The  large,  heavy  tears  rolled  down  her  face 


218  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

quietly  and  uncontrollably.  She  sat  on  the 
bench,  clutching  the  stone  wall ;  and  never 
uttered  a  moan.  Only  the  tears  followed  one 
after  another  in  a  steady,  hopeless  way,  as  she 
gazed  drearily  far  out  to  sea,  to  that  faint  line 
where  the  sky  and  ocean  met. 

She  was  thinking  of  the  old  school  days, 
when  she  and  the  dead  girl  had  sworn  eternal 
fidelity.  How — how  had  she  kept  that  vow  ? 
Ah,  she  had  not  intended  all  this.  She  had 
not  meant  to  be  false. 

When  she  first  looked  into  Will  Dunston's 
eyes  after  she  had  met  him  at  Forest  House, 
with  that  laugh  on  her  lips  which  all  men 
seemed  to  misunderstand — she  had  no  other 
thought  but  of  friendship  for  Mildred.  Then 
she  slowly  recalled  one  by  one  the  hateful, 
passionate  days.  She  hated  herself  when  she 
remembered  how  she  had  had  to  fight  hand-to- 
hand  against  her  desires — and  his  influence  ; 
and  how  she  had  nevertheless  failed  in  the 
struggle.  The  hot  blood  crept  up  and  crim 
soned  even  her  forehead  when  she  remem 
bered  how  she  had  kissed  him. 

At  first  she  had  spent  long  hours  with  him, 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  219 

trying  to  make  him  think  of  more  wholesome 
things  than  that  of  tempting  and  leading  on 
a  wavering  woman.  As  the  days  went  on  she 
only  thought  of  herself,  and  how  she  could 
get  away  from  her  own  desires. 

Now  that  Poor  Mildred  was  dead,  Kuth 
felt  like  a  murderess ;  and  in  her  remorse  she 
almost  screamed  out,  as  she  in  fancy  saw  the 
phantom  form  of  the  miserable  woman,  with 
set  teeth,  and  fixed,  despairing  eyes,  galloping 
straight  ahead  to  her  doom. 

"Don't,  Mildred,  don't.  Take  him  back, 
dear.  I  never  wanted  him,'5  she  moaned  in 
wardly.  "  Only  think  of  those  who  love  you. 
Ah,  don't,  it  is  too  horrible."  And  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  wept 
aloud. 

"  Come,  darling,  don't  cry.  Let's  go  back 
to  the  hotel.  I  know  it's  awful,'*  said  Waldo 
Bronson  huskily,  taking  her  gently  by  the 
arm  to  retrace  their  steps.  Will  Dunston 
followed  closely  behind,  his  tall  figure  sil 
houetted  on  the  flag-stones  in  the  moonlight, 
long,  gaunt,  and  uncanny.  Kuth  could  not 
bear  even  a  tiny  bit  of  his  shadow  to  cross  her 


220  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

own,  and  she  shivered  with  fear  of  him,  and 
clung  closer  to  her  husband.  Waldo  Bronson 
looked  at  her  quickly  and  saw  the  disgust  flit 
ting  over  her  face.  As  in  a  flash  the  past  few 
months  grew  clear  to  him  (such  intuitions  come 
to  us  in  unheard  and  unthought  of  ways). 
Knowing  Ruth's  nature,  he  felt  that  she  had 
probably  encouraged  the  man  a  little,  and  then 
somehow,  he  was  convinced — without  the  ex 
ercise  of  his  reason — that  the  man  had  im 
posed  on  and  bullied  her.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
hard  lines  in  Will  Dunston's  defiant  face  that 
revealed  the  story. 

On  the  hotel  stairway,  as  he  was  taking 
Ruth  up  to  their  apartment,  he  looked  sud 
denly  back  at  Will  Dunston,  and  saw  him 
leaning  on  the  banister,  scowling  up  after  him, 
with  an  ugly  look  in  his  black  eyes. 

"  Wait  for  me  in  the  smoking-room  ;  I  have 
a  word  to  say  to  you,"  he  called  down. 

"  Very  good,"  the  other  answered,  shrug 
ging  his  broad  shoulders  disdainfully,  and 
strolling  down  the  corridor. 

"  Can  I  put  you  to  bed,  baby  Ruth  ? "  he 
whispered  tenderly,  feeling  for  the  long  pin 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  221 

in  her  hat  to  remove  it.  He  was  always  ten 
der  towards  his  wife,  and  was  pleased  at  any 
whim  which  made  her  happy.  Kneeling 
down,  he  unbuttoned  her  boots,  and  then 
pulled  off  her  long  black  silk  stockings,  and 
slipped  her  pink,  naked  feet  into  her  mauve 
mules.  He  was  rather  clumsy  about  unlacing 
her  gown,  and  they  both  laughed  a  great  deal 
over  it,  until  she  was  at  last  free,  and  snugly 
tucked  up  in  bed. 

What  a  great,  pure  love  she  had  for  her 
husband.  He  was  the  very  best  and  dearest 
soul  in  all  the  world  to  her.  She  felt  a  won 
derful  and  overwhelming  peace  when  she  put 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  drawing  his 
face  down,  kissed  him. 

"  Good-night,  my  love,''  she  cried. 

"  Good-night,  baby  Ruth,  my  wife/'  he  re 
plied,  as  he  buried  his  face  in  her  hair.  He 
loved  the  perfume  of  its  soft,  red-brown 
waves.  It  was  so  subtly  delicate  and  woman 
ish.  Then  he  went  out,  and  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  smiling  back  at  her  from  the  door.  She 
blew  him  a  kiss  as  he  turned  ;  then  he  walked 
swiftly  down  the  hall  and  descended  the  stair. 


222  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

way.  She  listened,  half  asleep,  as  his  footsteps 
grew  fainter.  How  happy  she  was,  and  how  she 
loved  him.  Even  while  falling  asleep  she  was 
making  plans  for  the  next  season  after  they 
returned  from  the  States.  They  had  talked 
of  taking  a  hunting-box  down  in  the  Shires, 
near  Mrs.  Olneys  ;  and  then,  after  Christmas, 
of  going  to  Pau,  where  the  weather  was  al 
ways  mild  and  open,  and  sport  good. 

"  He's  the  dearest  and  best  in  the  world, 
and  I  love  him  so,"  were  the  last  words  on 
her  lips  as  she  fell  asleep. 

"  And  within  the  grave  there  is  no  pleasure,  for  the 

Blind-worm  battens  on  the  root, 
And  desire  shudders  into  ashes,  and  the  tree  of 
Passion  bears  no  fruit.11 

OSOAK  WILDE. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

"  Break,  break,  break, 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags,  O  sea  I 
But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead 
Will  never  come  back  to  me." 

THNNTSOK. 

EUTH  awakened  next  morning  with  rather  a 
nervous  headache,  induced  no  doubt  by  the 
unusual  emotion  of  the  night  before.  The 
day  was  dull,  and  as  she  lay  in  bed  she  could 
watch  the  sea  tossing  the  fishing  boats  about 
relentlessly. 

Nothing  is  sadder  than  a  storm  at  Monte 
Carlo  ;  for  the  face  of  that  country  is  usually 
so  bright,  that  when  clouded,  it  seems  more 
sorrowful  by  comparison,  I  suppose.  When 
Euth  took  the  coffee  that  Martha  brought  in, 
she  found  on  the  tray  a  note  from  her  hus 
band,  which  she  leisurely  opened  and  read. 
He  often  sent  her  notes  in  the  same  way,  for 
he  was  a  very  modern  man,  and  understood 


324  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

women  too  well — his  wife  especially — to  dis 
turb  them  before  they  emerged  from  their 
dressing-rooms. 

"  My  dear  wife,''  the  note  ran,  "  I  am  called 
to  Paris  unexpectedly,  and  when  you  read  this 
I  shall  be  well  on  my  way.  Expect  me  back 
in  two  or  three  days.  Try  and  amuse  your 
self.  I  see  by  the  hotel  register  that  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  John  Howes  and  Jack  Carey  are  arriving 
to-day,  so  you  won't  be  lonely.  A  bientdt, 
my  darling.  WALDO." 

She  did  not  think  anything  of  this,  because 
she  was  quite  accustomed  to  her  husband's 
erratic  movements.  When  she  received  her 
morning's  mail,  she  found  a  telegram  from 
Jack  Carey,  and  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Howes, 
announcing  their  departure  from  London. 
They  would  arrive  that  night,  they  said. 

She  looked  out  to  sea  at  the  little  boata 
that  were  pitched  about  so  helplessly,  and  felt 
bored.  What  on  earth  should  she  do  in  this 
place  all  day,  where  she  positively  knew  no 
one  ?  Rising  wearily,  she  made  her  toilette 
in  a  listless  way,  and  taking  her  writing  pad 
with  her  (she  often  wrote  to  her  friends  while 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE.  225 

out  doors)  went  for  a  brisk  walk,  hoping  to 
soothe  her  brain,  which  still  ached  furiously. 
She  made  her  way  down  a  hill,  and  then  up  a 
steep,  rocky  footpath  on  the  right,  to  the 
quaint  old  church.  She  could  hear  the  priest 
slowly  chanting,  as  the  faint,  sweet  smell  of 
incense  came  timidly  out  to  her  where  she 
stood.  Turning  the  handle  of  the  door,  she 
went  in,  and  knelt  on  the  stone  floor  near  a 
white-capped  peasant  woman,  who  was  so  ab 
sorbed  in  her  devotions  that  she  did  not  know 
Ruth  was  watching  her  brown,  wrinkled  face, 
pleadingly  upturned  to  Our  Lady.  Far  up  at 
the  end  of  the  chancel,  where  the  white  altar 
rose,  adorned  with  simple  flowers,  and  a  few 
candles,  which  the  poor  penitents  had  given  as 
offerings,  a  young  priest  was  serving  mass, 
his  earnest  eyes  shining  with  that  light  which 
faith  alone  lends.  A  bell  tinkled;  and  all 
heads  were  bowed  in  prayer.  How  solemn 
and  peaceful  it  all  was.  Huth  remembered 
with  a  twinge  of  homesickness  the  church  far 
away  over  the  ocean,  down  in  Virginia,  where 
she  had  once  worshiped.  Her  faith  was  not 
the  faith  of  these  people ;  but  they  were  all 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DEBIRK. 


taught  to  love  the  same  Saviour,  and  to  pray 
to  Him  for  the  same  "  peace  which  passeth  all 
understanding  ;''  and  a  calm  fell  over  her  spirit 
in  this  holy  temple  of  God.  Slowly  tiptoeing 
out,  she  dropped  some  silver  in  the  box  at  the 
door,  "pour  les  pauvres,'  and  went  on  her  way 
down  to  the  shore.  After  walking  for  a  long 
time,  she  found  a  spot  sheltered  from  the  wind 
among  the  crags ;  and  there  sitting  down  she 
opened  her  portfolio  to  write  to  her  husband. 
A  most  fearful  depression  was  on  her,  and  she 
felt  in  tune  with  the  troubled  sea.  She  was 
very  susceptible  to  electric  atmospheric  influ 
ences,  and  her  heart  was  as  restless  as  the 
waves  out  there,  that  leaped  and  tumbled  into 
each  other's  arms  so  desperately. 

"  My  love,  I  am  lonely,''  she  wrote.  <c  Since 
I've  been  down  here  the  mood  of  the  mighty 
sea  has  dominated  me.  It  rages  to-day,  and 
I  rebel  against  fate,  and  fight  my  destiny. 
When  it  is  full  of  heavenly  blue,  as  it  was 
when  we  first  came  here,  a  bright  bird  of 
gladness  sings  in  my  soul.  But  when  the 
dark,  gray  shadows  fall  aslant,  as  they  are 
falling  now,  I  want  to  die  for  sheer  sympathy 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  227 

with  the  sea,  and  with  my  limited  sky,  which 
is  overcast  by  threatening  clouds.  A  dear 
friend  once  told  me  that  my  mind  was  prone 
to  wander  through  fantastic  alleys ;  but  after 
all,  have  our  dearest  friends  the  most  disin 
terested  comprehension  of  us  ?  This  is  wicked 
and  cynical,  I  can  in  fancy  hear  you  say — 
with  that  stupid,  grieved  look  in  your  dear 
eyes ;  but,  my  love,  sooner  or  later — it  seems 
to  me — we  must  face  the  batteries  of  disillu 
sion.  Soon  they  will  charge  and  close  up 
their  fire  on  us ;  so  why  not  meet  it  half  way  ? 
I  think  the  shock  would  be  less. 

"The  poppies  grow  full  and  red  in  some 
home-fields,  perhaps  ;  and  sweet  dreams  are 
the  children's  inheritance ;  dreams  so  fair,  that 
even  the  stale  afterthought  does  not  trouble. 
The  bitter  weed  of  disillusion  is  not  permitted 
to  tangle  those  perfumed  fields.  Ah  me !  I 
think  that  the  mistral  has  gotten  into  my 
blood.  It  is  late,  and  growing  cold ;  and  as  I 
have  four  miles  to  make  back  to  the  hotel,  I 
will  close  my  blue  letter  and  send  you  a  kiss, 
while  I  drink  to  your  health  with  my  lunch. 

KUTH." 


228  THE     §HADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

Martha  was  arranging  some  fresh  gray  tulle 
on  the  corsage  of  a  favorite  dinner  gown, 
when  Huth  reached  her  room.  The  girl  held 
it  out  at  arm's  length,  to  see  the  effect  of  the 
silver  knots  of  ribbon  on  the  shoulders.  She 
was  always  most  anxious  that  her  mistress 
should  be  a  picture  in  gowns  and  coiffure. 
Ruth  smiled  at  the  girl's  vanity,  as  she 
watched  her  deft  brown  fingers  sewing  the 
tulle  higher  on  the  left. 

She  ordered  lunch  to  be  served  at  once  up 
in  her  sitting-room,  as  she  did  not  care  to  go 
down  to  the  crowded  breakfast-room  alone ; 
and  Martha  waited  on  her. 

"I  am  returning  home  in  two  weeks, 
Martha,  and  have  written  to  engage  our  pas 
sage  already.  Are  you  glad  ?  " 

Martha  showed  her  ivories  in  a  broad  smile, 
almost  dropping  the  salad-bowl  in  her  delight. 
Virginia,  in  her  estimation,  was  next  to  heav 
en.  She  loved  the  great  fields,  with  the  broad- 
leaved  tobacco-plants,  the  water-melons  and 
canteloupes  ripening  in  the  sun,  the  sweet, 
green  corn,  with  the  yellow  silk  of  the  young 
ears  waving  in  the  breeze,  and  the  long, 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  229 

dim  vistas  that  stretch  out  through  the  giant 
pine-woods.  The  memory  of  the  music  in 
their  branches  set  her  heart  beating  to  a  happy 
tune. 

Kuth,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Howes  and  Jack 
Carey  all  dined  together  that  night ;  and  then 
they  went  to  hear  "  La  Cigale  "  at  the  Casino 
Theatre.  The  house  was  very  full.  Glancing 
about,  Mrs.  Howes  recognized  many  friends, 
to  whom  she  nodded  and  smiled  in  that 
"  fetching ''  way  of  hers  which  made  each 
man  or  woman  feel  assured  of  being  the  one 
who  had  aroused  her  delicious  cordiality. 

The  ballet— ye  gods,  the  ballet !  Who  does 
not  remember  with  pain  and  anguish  the 
ballet  of  the  theatre  at  Monte  Carlo  ?  "When 
Mrs.  Howes  saw  six  smirking  females,  looking 
like  elongated  tongs,  led  by  an  enormously 
fat,  kittenish  old  darling,  adorned  with  two 
shoulder  straps,  and  a  quarter  of  a  yard  of 
pink  and  green  tulle — her  wonderful  canary 
colored  head  crowned  with  a  virgin  wreath  of 
pink  rose  buds — she  stared  for  a  moment,  and 
then  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  hys 
terical  giggles,  which  set  Euth  and  the  others 


230  THE     BHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

off  also ;  and  they  laughed  and  choked  until 
the  tears  ran  down  their  faces  without  rhyme 
or  reason. 

"  When  will  you  be  serious  ?  "  sighed  John 
Howes,  trying  vainly  to  compose  himself  ;  but 
every  time  the  ladies  of  the  ballet  waved  their 
arms,  or  balanced  themselves  on  their  toes,  it 
made  Mrs.  Howes  giggle  worse  than  ever. 
Jack  Carey  arose  hastily  and  wiped  the  tears 
away  from  his  eyes,  as  he  uttered  incoherently, 
"  Let's  go  out  into  the  foyer? 

They  managed  without  entirely  disgracing 
themselves  to  make  their  escape  from  the 
audience  into  the  grand  salon  where  every 
one  promenaded.  There  the  air  was  blue 
with  the  smoke  of  various  grades  of  good 
or  bad  tobacco,  amidst  which  curious-looking 
men  and  women  were  strolling  about  vaguely. 
Here  and  there  were  gathered  groups  of 
vulture-eyed  gamblers  listening  to  some 
fellow  schemer  with  a  "  system ''  to  unfold. 

Gorgeously  attired  femmes  galantes  went 
ogling  by,  stopping  now  and  then  at  some 
roulette  table  to  throw  down  a  five  franc  piece 
on  some  unknown  number;  when  it  was 


THE     LHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  231 

scooped  in,  they  would  purse  up  their  car- 
mined  lips  in  a  pout  of  disapproval.  Ruth 
had  never  seen  women  with  such  deep  red  lips 
before  ;  they  gave  her  an  unpleasant  sugges 
tion  of  vampires,  as  though  their  nightly 
delirium  was  to  glue  themselves  to  the  warm 
human  hody,  and  suck  out  its  life-blood, 
staining  their  mouths  with  the  bleeding 
wounds.  The  horrid  idea  haunted  her ;  and 
every  time  she  saw  a  woman  go  by  with  a 
painted  mouth,  she  gazed  with  fascination  at 
the  mouth,  and  never  at  the  woman,  and 
murmured  mechanically  that  verse  from  Swin 
burne's  Dolores — 

"  Cold  eyelids  that  hide  like  a  jewel ; 

Hard  eyes  that  grow  soft  for  an  hour  ; 
The  heavy  white  limbs,  and  the  cruel 
Red  mouth  like  a  venomous  flower." 

Two  young  English  girls,  evidently  from 
the  country,  their  eyes  wide  with  wonder,  sat 
on  a  divan  against  the  wall.  They  were  in 
charge  of  a  gentle  lady  who  must  have  been 
their  companion.  She  watched  the  motley 
throng  with  a  look  of  scientific  intelligence  on 
her  patient  face. 


282  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESERE. 

"  I  hear,  Jack,  that  they  are  proposing  to 
send  you  up  as  Senator  from  Virginia  in  a  few 
years,"  said  "Ruth,  looking  up  at  Jack  Carey 
admiringly.  "  How  charming  that  will  be  for 
you.  You  can  then  pass  through  those  bills 
for  the  benefit  of  your  countrywomen,  which 
we  used  to  talk  so  much  about." 

"  The  women  of  Virginia  are  trying  to  do 
away  with  that  stupid  old  English  law  of  a 
wife's  entire  subjection  to  her  lord  and  master, 
and  very  often,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  bullying 
husband,"  answered  Jack  Carey  thoughtfully. 

"  I  was  not  very  often  a  subjected  wife," 
laughed  Kuth.  "  In  fact,  dear  old  Waldo 
would  fetch  me  the  moon  if  I  expressed  a 
wish  for  it ;  or  at  least  he  would  i  make  a  try' 
for  it." 

"  Your  husband  is  a  Baltimorean.  I  know 
very  little  of  the  marriage  laws  in  his  State/' 
he  replied,  almost  coldly. 

He  never  could  get  used  to  the  idea  that 
this  woman  was  another  man's  wife.  He  felt 
as  though  she  was  his  own  property,  merely 
because — they  had  threaded  daisy-chains  to 
gether  when  they  were  in  pinafores ;  and  yet 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IKE.  233 

he  fought  this  feeling  always,  refusing  to  be 
mastered  by  his  desire. 

"  What  a  future  would  be  ours  if  she  was 
my  wife/'  he  thought ;  and  though  he  tried 
never  to  look  on  her  in  that  way,  the  same  cry 
would  ring  through  his  brain. 

11  With  Ruth  as  my  wife  I  could  surmount 
every  difficulty.  My  ambition  would  have  no 
limit;  while  now — now  I  haven't  the  heart 
for  anything ;  and  I  plod  along,  making  the 
dryest  speeches,  well  pleased  if  I  am  only  let 
alone  ;  but  for  Ruth's  sake,  I  feel  as  though  I 
could  plead  to  the  stars  to  come  down  to  her 
out  of  heaven  !  "  he  sighed  despondently.  He 
was  awakened  from  his  reverie  by  the  rippling 
music  of  Mrs.  John  Howes'  laughter. 

"  Come  along,  Mr.  Carey  !  Are  you  asleep  ? 
We  are  all  going  home.'' 

His  friends  were  standing  in  the  doorway 
of  the  cloak-room  ;  Ruth  had  slipped  away 
from  him  while  he  was  thinking  about  her  so 
intently,  and  he  had  not  realized  it,  so  engrossed 
was  he  in  his  meditations.  She  was  fasten 
ing  the  clasp  of  her  cloak,  and  he  saw  her 
reflection  smiling  at  him  through  the  mirror. 


284  THE      SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

They  all  left  the  rooms  together,  and  were 
soon  comfortably  ensconced  at  a  corner  table 
in  one  of  the  gay  restaurants,  where  Mrs. 
Howes  wanted  to  see  something  of  the  half- 
world.  The  laughing  and  jesting  which  went 
on  around  amused  her ;  until  one  yellow-haired 
damsel,  with  more  spirits  than  discretion,  de 
liberately  poured  the  contents  of  an  iced  bottle 
of  champagne  over  an  immaculately  got-up 
youth,  and  then  rubbed  his  hair  (which  had 
been  parted  in  the  centre  and  plastered  down 
on  either  side  of  his  ears  with  such  infinite 
pains)  with  the  bottle,  until  he  looked  like  an 
astonished,  bedraggled  poodle.  Then  that 
incorrigible  damsel  crept  up  behind  the  host 
of  the  evening  (who  Ruth  afterwards  learned 
was  a  very  wealthy  newspaper  proprietor  in 
]N"ew  York),  grabbed  the  tails  of  his  coat, 
which  fitted  him  very  loosely,  and  pulled  it 
off  over  his  head,  turning  it  inside  out  in  a 
flash,  and  leaving  the  angry  newspaper  gen 
tleman  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  while  the  party 
greeted  this  latest  caprice  with  screams  of 
laughter. 

One  gypsy-faced  girl,  who  had   drunk  an 


THE     SHADOW     OF    DESIRE.  235 

astonishing  amount  of  wine,  considering  her 
stature — she  was  scarcely  a  woman  in  years — 
sprang  up  on  to  the  supper  table,  and  after 
kicking  a  yard  or  two  of  room  in  the  china 
and  glass,  amid  the  bravos  of  the  half  tipsy 
men,  began  to  dance  "  Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," 
singing  the  accompanying  verses  in  French, 
while  the  others  hiccupped  the  chorus. 

Mrs.  Howes  and  Ruth  now  thought  it  about 
time  for  them  to  return  to  their  hotel.  As 
they  passed  the  festive  table,  one  of  the  women 
offered  Jack  Carey  a  glass  of  wine,  with  a 
drunken  smile  on  her  pretty,  silly  face ;  he 
refused  it,  blushing  wildly,  which  was  a  sig 
nal  for  renewed  screams  of  laughter  from  the 
crowd. 

"  Ah,  Armand,  Annan  d,  how  can  you  refuse 
your  Camille  ? "  the  creature  sobbed  out  to 
him  in  mock  distress. 

John  Howes  winked  at  his  wife ;  Ruth  was 
looking  straight  ahead,  trying  not  to  catch 
the  roguish  eyes  of  Mrs.  Howes,  who,  some 
how,  always  made  her  giggle  in  the  most 
undignified  way  at  the  most  inopportune 
moments* 


236  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

Mrs.  Howes  went  into  Buth's  sitting-room, 
and  stayed  with  her  a  little  while  before  going 
to  bed.  She  had  thrown  on  a  wrapper,  and 
brought  a  brush  with  which  she  steadily 
brushed  her  soft,  fair  hair  while  talking. 
Such  rites  are  as  much  a  sign  of  friendship 
with  women  as  the  cocktail  that  American 
men  take  together,  or  the  pipe  of  peace  which 
the  Indians  smoke  in  one  another's  company. 

Mrs.  Howes  told  the  same  story  of  Mildred's 
death  that  Will  Dunston  had  done ;  and  said 
that  although  Mildred's  husband  and  dearest 
friends  were  convinced  that  it  was  suicide, 
they  were  all  trying  to  hush  it  up  by  declaring 
that  the  horse  had  run  away  with  her,  and 
that  she  did  not  know  the  country  around 
there.  The  gravel-pit  was  really  not  very 
deep,  but  her  horse  crushed  her,  and  she 
must  have  been  killed  instantly. 

The  emotional  little  lady  cried  bitterly  while 
relating  the  story.  She  would  miss  Mildred 
in  more  than  one  way ;  and  although  Mildred 
had  never  shown  any  special  affection  for  her, 
she  had  nevertheless  always  remembered  to 
invite  her  when  she  had  any  fun  on.  Mrs. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  237 

Howes  sighed  deeply  when  she  thought  of  the 
long  ball-room  that  would  be  closed  up  now. 
She  remembered  with  fond  regret  the  delight 
ful  garden-parties,  the  private  theatricals  that 
would  be  no  more.  What  a  place  Forest  House 
had  been  for  flirtations,  and  the  tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks  faster  than  ever ;  but  she  had 
been  honestly  fond  of  Mildred  and  half  the 
tears  were  for  her  sad  fate. 

"  Well,  good-night,  dear,''  she  said,  rising 
and  going  to  the  door.  "Grieving  will  not 
give  her  back  to  us,  nor  is  it  good  for  the 
complexion,"  and  she  smiled  a  sickly  little 
smile,  and  went  to  her  room,  and  then  to 
bed;  and  soon  she  slept  like  a  child.  Hers 
was  an  enviable  nature,  for  storms  passed  over 
her  head  without  ruffling  one  of  its  bright 
curls. 

44  O  past !    O  happy  life  I    O  songs  of  joy  I 
In  the  air,  in  the  woods,  over  fields, 
Loved  J  loved  1  loved  !  loved  I  loved  1 
But  my  mate  no  more,  no  more  with  me, 
We  two  together  no  more ! " 

WHITMAN. 


CHAPTEK  XVTL 

How  did  I  know  I  should  love  thee  to-day, 

Whom  that  day  I  held  not  dear  ? 
How  did  I  know  I  should  love  thee  away, 

When  I  did  not  love  thee  anear  ?  " 

JEAN  IKGELOW. 

WALDO  BRONSON  hurried  along  the  corridor 
of  an  hotel  at  Ostende.  In  an  hour  he  was  to 
meet  Will  Dunston ;  and  it  could  be  plainly  seen 
on  his  pale,  determined  face,  that  one  of  them 
would  die.  A  clerk  stepped  up  and  gave  him 
a  letter  which  he  saw  at  a  glance  was  from 
Ruth.  Going  aside  into  a  deserted  reading- 
room  for  a  moment,  he  sat  down  and  calmly 
lit  a  cigar ;  then  he  tore  open  the  envelope 
and  read  the  letter.  It  was  dated  Monte 
Carlo : 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 


"  I  am  homesick  for  Virginia,  my  love,  so 
have  taken  passage  on  the  same  boat  in  which 
you  sail  next  week.  I  couldn't  bear  the  idea 
of  being  left  alone  in  Europe  without  you,  so 
I  have  taken  this  liberty  although  I  fear  you 
will  be  displeased  "  (he  was  blind  with  tears 
for  a  moment,  and  the  writing  swam  before 
his  eyes),  "  knowing  as  I  do  your  idea  that 
women  should  amuse  themselves,  remain  in 
their  doll  kingdom,  and  not  follow  a  man 
about  when  he  has  the  '  almighty  dollar  '  to 
wrestle  for.  I  am  homesick  for  my  South ; 
perhaps  because  I  was  born  there.  They  say 
that  a  bit  of  one's  native  land  always  clings  to 
one,  just  as  the  earth  clings  to  the  roots  of  a 
transplanted  flower.  Or  it  may  be  that  I  am 
homesick  for  the  wild  coasts,  the  islands,  and 
the  resinous  pine-woods,  where  we  used  to 
dream.  I  often  think  of  those  pines,  sloping 
down  to  meet  the  yellow  sands,  and  the  warm 
caressing  waves,  waves  with  lips  so  hot  that 
they  could  easily  kiss  one  into  oblivion.  I 
think  even  while  fainting  in  such  an  embrace, 
we  could  gloat  upon  the  beauty  of  the  flying 
white  clouds,  in  the  blue  haze  above  us,  Fancy 


240  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

floating  on  the  bosom  of  an  ardent  tide, 
dreamily  watching  the  fitful  blushes  of  the 
reddening  sky,  our  limbs  stretched  out  in  per 
fect  ease,  while  the  form  of  our  beloved  rises 
and  falls  in  harmony  with  our  own,  and  with 
the  pulse  of  the  southern  waters,  as  we  float 
and  drift  softly  on  to  the  golden  shore  of  our 
summer  world.  But  my  love,  whom  I  love, 
will  he  be  there  too  ?  Or  only  the  favorite  of 
some  fickle,  feverish  fancy  ? 

"  How  fearful  it  would  be  when  we  were  cast 
up  on  that  enchanted  beach,  as  we  turned,  ex 
pecting  to  be  greeted  by  the  familiar  eyes  of 
our  dear  one,  only  to  be  met  by  strangers — or 
worse — by  the  one  we  hate  !  All,  God,  what 
a  farce  is  this  existence  of  ours,  Waldo  1 

"  If  I  don't  hear  from  you  to-morrow,  I  am 
going  back  to  Paris  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Olney 
until  you  come  for  me ;  for  I  am  not  only 
homesick  for  Virginia,  but  more  than  all,  I 
am  homesick  for  you,  my  love." 

"YourBuTH." 

He  stared  at  the  letter  in  a  dumb,  absent- 
minded  way  ;  stared  straight  over  the  dainty, 
closely  written  sheets,  with  their  faint,  oriental 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  241 

perfume;  stared  out  through  the  window, 
and  over  the  angry  North  Sea,  that  was  fling 
ing  great  leaden-colored  waves  in  desperate 
wrath  against  the  huge  iron  wall  that  curbed 
its  furious  progress ;  stared  straight  through 
space  to  Paris,  where  Buth  was  waiting  his 
return,  all  unconscious  that  she  might  never 
see  him  again.  The  memory  of  that  last 
tender  good-night,  and  the  kiss  she  had  given 
him,  made  him  groan  in  anguish  for  the  loss 
of  her.  He  threw  his  arms  out  on  the  table, 
and  burying  his  face  in  them,  wept. 

Her  letter  was  crumpled  up  in  his  hand ; 
and  the  scent  of  it  made  him  feel  her  waving 
hair  once  more  against  his  cheek;  and  her 
darling  voice  again  seemed  to  echo,  u  Good 
night,  Waldo,  my  love !  "  He  groaned  aloud. 
"  Good-night,  baby  Buth,  my  wife  ! "  A 
horrid  choking  feeling  arose  in  his  throat,  as 
he  pictured  her  alone  in  the  world,  with  all 
its  temptations  and  cruel  injustices  stretching 
out  before  her  through  the  long  years.  A 
sickening  fear  beset  him  ;  suppose  he  should 
be  killed,  and  Will  Dunston  survive  ?  Then 
she  would  be  unprotected ;  for  what  refuge 


242  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

has  a  woman  who  is  alone.  It  is  true  that 
money  is  a  great  power,  and  Waldo  Bronson 
felt  some  consolation  in  knowing  that  he  had 
left  her  sole  and  undisputed  mistress  of  his 
fortune ;  he  had  even  been  clever  enough  to 
secure  it  against  the  meddlesome  interference 
of  any  deceitful  relative. 

He  alone  knew  Ruth's  nervous  temperament, 
and  her  weaknesses ;  and  he  not  only  longed 
to  live  to  shield  her  from  her  friends,  who 
always  misjudged  her,  but  from  her  own  ca 
prices,  which  were  so  liable  to  mislead  her. 
A  presentiment  warned  him  that  he  would 
fall,  and  that  he  would  never  see  her  again. 
For  a  moment  he  was  strongly  tempted  to 
show  the  "  white  feather  ;  "  but  in  the  next 
second  he  felt  ashamed  of  the  coward  thought. 
Then  his  hatred  for  Will  Dunston  flamed  up 
fiercer  than  ever.  The  knowledge  that  Jack 
Carey  would  always  be  her  friend,  gave 
him  a  little  comfort.  Seizing  a  pen,  he 
dashed  off  a  note  to  him  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment. 

"  My  dear  Carey,"  he  wrote, "  I  am  engaged 
in  an  unfortunate  affair  that  means  life  or 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  243 

death  to  me.  If  I  do  not  return,  I  charge  you 
to  take  Ruth  home  to  her  family.  You  will 
not  mind  doing  this  for  her,  I  am  sure,  know 
ing  as  I  do  the  old  friendship  which  exists 
between  you.  Tours,  BRONSON." 

Then  he  wrote  to  Ruth  a  long  letter,  such  a 
letter  as  I  hope  no  other  woman  will  ever  re 
ceive  from  the  man  she  has  grown  to  love 
more  than  anything  on  earth — a  love  letter, 
yet  containing  good  counsel,  uncomplaining 
and  without  reproach  ;  a  letter  full  of  pas 
sionate,  hopeless  farewell.  He  sealed  it  and 
arose  quickly,  buttoning  up  his  great  coat,  as 
Colonel  Tom  Cockletree's  strong  bass  voice 
called  out  to  him  from  the  door  : 

"  Trap's  here,  Bronson  ;  are  you  ready  ?  " 

"All  right,"  he  answered,  mechanically 
drawing  on  his  gloves. 

"  Cockletree,  will  you  do  me  the  favor  of 
posting  these  letters,  after  it  is  all  over  ? "  he 
asked,  handing  the  Colonel  the  letters  for  his 
wife  and  Jack  Carey. 

"  Why,  certainly,  old  man  ;  but  it  will  take 
more  than  that  measley  specimen  of  humanity 
to  make  it '  all  over '  for  you.  You'll  live  to 


244  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

pick  a  button-hole  from  his  turf  yet,  my  boy," 
he  answered  in  his  breezy  Texan  way,  pocket 
ing  the  letters  and  marching  out  to  where 
the  carriage  was  waiting  to  take  them  to  the 
rendezvous.  All  the  way  there  the  Colonel 
told  cheerful  anecdotes  of  the  affairs  he  had 
had  the  honor  to  participate  in.  One  man, 
he  said,  had  had  his  ear  cut  off,  and  had 
grabbed  it  and  stuck  it  on  again  before  it  got 
cold.  Another  was  shot  through  the  coat- 
tails  by  an  experienced  duelist, who  wished  only 
to  teach  his  adversary  a  lesson ;  whereupon  the 
man  with  the  riddled  coat-tail  promptly  shook 
hands  all  around,  saying  that  he  had  had 
enough,  and  turned  heel  for  home. 

"  But  one  affair  I  was  mixed  up  in  rather 
sickened  me  of  such  things/'  rattled  on  the 
Colonel.  "  Two  boys  with  the  down  scarcely 
on  their  faces  quarreled  about  some  fancied 
insult,  and  met  in  Belgium.  Like  all  hot 
headed  youths,  they  had  blood  in  their  eyes, 
and  at  the  first  shot  the  youngest,  a  French 
man,  was  pierced  through  the  lungs.  His 
friends  got  him  off  in  a  boat  to  a  yacht  that 
was  waiting  near;  but  he  died  immediately 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  345 

after  ;  and  his  body  was  taken  to  his  mother, 

the  old  Baronne  de  M ,  at  the  Chateau  in 

Normandy." 

They  had  now  passed  the  racecourse  and 
the  castle,  and  were  driving  rapidly  along  the 
rough  road  which  winds  over  the  top  of  the 
sand-dunes. 

Presently  they  came  to  a  dip  in  the  hill  that 
led  down  to  the  shore.  It  was  a  lonely  place, 
and  well  sheltered  by  broken  sand-hills,  which 
were  sparsely  covered  with  the  growth  of  sad- 
looking  brown  sea-grass.  Yery  seldom  any 
one  went  there  except  perhaps  a  few  solitary 
fisher-folk. 

Sea-gulls  clamored  and  screamed  to  each 
other  in  astonishment  at  the  unusual  sight  of 
people.  Waldo  Bronson  and  the  Colonel  left 
the  carriage  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  made 
their  way  down  to  where  Will  Dunston,  his 
second,  and  a  surgeon  were  already  waiting. 
Will  Dunston  was  rapidly  walking  up  and 
down.  He  was  buttoned  up  to  his  chin  in  a 
great  fur-lined  coat.  His  yellow  face  gleamed 
ghastly  in  the  early  morning,  and  his  eyes 
were  blood-shot,  as  though  he  had  not  slept, 


246  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

when  lie  turned  to  greet  Waldo  Bronson  and 
the  Colonel.  After  a  few  preliminaries  they 
selected  pistols  and  took  their  places. 

Colonel  Cockletree  was  confident  that  Waldo 
Bronson  was  a  fine  shot,  and  Will  Dunston 
felt  that  his  most  important  moment  in  life 
had  come.  He  meant,  also,  to  send  his  bullet 
home  if  possible  ;  for  he  hated  the  man  and 
wanted  his  wife's  money  (of  late  his  bankers 
had  not  been  so  polite  to  him  as  formerly). 
His  hand  was  quiet,  but  his  heart  was  fierce 
and  ravenous  as  a  tiger's. 

They  shuddered  with  disgust  as  they  both 
stood  back  to  back,  then  paced  the  regu 
lation  distance,  wheeled  around  to  the  side, 
and  fired.  As  the  smoke  cleared,  Waldo  Bron 
son  reeled  and  fell  forward  on  his  face.  The 
blood  spurted  out  from  an  ugly  hole  in  his 
temple.  Colonel  Cockletree  turned  him  gently 
over  as  the  surgeon  knelt  down  to  operate.  A 
little  blood  did  not  upset  the  Colonel.  He  had 
done  too  much  brave  service,  and  seen  too 
many  of  the  boys,  both  the  blue  and  the  gray, 
shot  down  around  him  in  the  late  war,  to  be 
unnerved  now. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  247 

"  He  is  quite  dead,"  the  surgeon  said,  listen 
ing  in  vain  for  the  beat  of  his  heart. 

Will  Dunston  stood  near,  with  a  look  of 
almost  fiendish  joy  on  his  swarthy  face,  gazing 
at  the  dead  man.  He  had  not  escaped  entirely 
without  injury,  for  his  arm  hung  limp  and 
broken  by  his  side. 

He  could  not  realize  that  at  last  the  man 
was  dead  who  had  stood  in  his  way  so  long, 
and  that  now  Ruth  Bronson  was  widowed, 
and  within  a  day  or  two's  journey  of  him. 

He  was  so  dazed  that  he  hardly  felt  the 
surgeon  binding  up  his  arm.  Then  his  second 
hurried  him  away,  out  of  the  reach  of  the  law 
and  out  of  the  country. 

Colonel  Cockletree  contrived  to  have  the 
body  of  Waldo  Bronson  conveyed  to  Paris  in 
some  miraculous  manner,  leaving  it  in  charge  of 
a  well-known  personage,  who  is  accustomed  to 
managing  such  awkward  affairs.  He  then 
caught  a  P.  and  O.  steamer,  and  went  out  to 
India  to  stay  with  one  of  the  most  genial  of 
good  fellows,  for  a  six  months  or  so,  to  shoot, 
and  to  enjoy  the  novel  society  of  the  hills, 
thus  escaping  the  whirlwind  of  comment  and 


248  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

scandal  which  naturally  follows  after  such  an 
affair.  He  did  not  post  Waldo's  letter  to  Euth, 
but  sent  it  under  cover  of  Jack  Carey's,  hoping 
that  thus  the  news  would  be  broken  less  sud 
denly  to  her. 

"  The  blood  is  hot  that  must  be  cold  for  this." 

SHAKESPBARB. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

*'  Never  morning  wore 
To  evening,  but  some  heart  did  break." 

TENNYSON. 

WILL  DUNSTON  went  straight  on  to  Paris 
from  Ostende.  He  intended  to  get  all  his 
affairs  arranged  for  immediate  flight  if  neces 
sary.  On  looking  over  the  hotel  register,  he 
started  in  surprise  to  see  the  name  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  John  Howes,  Mrs.  Waldo  Bronson,  and 
J.  Carey ;  he  had  thought  that  they  were  at 
Monte  Carlo  still.  Turning  to  the  clerk,  he 
asked  when  they  had  arrived. 

"Only  this  morning,  sir,"  the  man  an 
swered. 

"  Send  my  cards  up,"  he  said,  selecting 
them  from  his  case  awkwardly  with  his  left 
hand.  His  right  arm  was  in  splints,  and  hung 
in  a  black  sling. 


350  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

The  clerk,  who  was  an  Englishman,  eyed 
the  arm  with  admiring  interest,  and  put  the 
accident  down  to  a  hunting  disaster. 

'  Here,  boy,  take  this  up  to  No.  18,"  he 
called  out  to  a  page  who  was  lounging  near. 

"They  have  all  gone  out  to  the  Grand 
Opera,"  the  clerk  volunteered  loquaciously  to 
Will  Dunston. 

"  Ah,  indeed !  Well,  just  leave  the  cards, 
please." 

He  turned  and  went  rapidly  up  with  the 
porter  to  the  room  assigned  him,  and  soon 
threw  on  his  evening  clothes,  and  ran  quickly 
down  into  the  streets.  Hailing  a  fiacre,  he 
called  out  to  the  cocher:  <c  A  V  Opera,  vite!" 

The  man  whipped  up  his  wretched  horse  to 
a  gallop,  quite  indifferent  to  whether  or  not 
it  might  drop  dead  in  its  traces ;  for  he  knew 
that  the  carcass  would  fetch  more  money  in 
the  nearest  meat  shop  than  it  would  in  har 
ness.  The  constant  crack  and  pop  of  the 
whip  as  it  descended  on  the  poor  brute's  hide, 
made  a  sort  of  accompaniment  to  the  labored 
breath  and  stumbling  gait  of  the  tortured 
creature. 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  251 

I  shall  always  associate  " beautiful  Paris5' 
with  the  gaunt,  hungry,  suffering  animals  that 
they  have  the  effrontery  to  call  cab-horses, 
and  the  ruffianly  drivers  who  lash  their 
bruised  victims  when  there  is  not  a  "  yard  of 
go "  in  them ;  also  with  the  anarchist  con 
cierges,  and  their  confidential  friends,  who 
rule  every  household  by  threats  of  blackmail ; 
and  with  the  anarchist  maitres  d'hotel  and 
footmen,  and  their  perfect  system  of  robbery. 
In  fact,  with  the  whole  vulture  brood  ;  and 
what  is  more  amusing  than  anything  else,  is 
that  grand  affair  that  is  jokingly  called  "  The 
French  Courts  of  Justice."  It  is  verily  a 
ring  within  a  ring ;  and  if  any  poor,  deluded 
Englishman  or  American  finds  himself  most 
outrageously  robbed  and  systematically  swin 
dled  (which  is  not  a  rare  thing,  believe  me), 
do  not  let  him  leave  more  money  in  "beauti 
ful  Paris"  by  going  to  law;  but  rather  let 
him  "  fold  his  tent  like  the  Arabs,  and  silently 
steal  away '' — an  undignified  and  often  impos 
sible  retreat  for  the  pugnacious  man  or  woman 
who  smarts  under  many  "  sharp  dealings." 
It  is  just  as  well,  my  dear  sir  or  madam,  to 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 


submit  to  the  inevitable,  so  long  as  you  are 
wedded  to  "beautiful  Paris,"  and  make  up 
yours  minds  to  be  cheated  in  divers  wondrous 
ways. 

Try  and  look  the  other  way,  if  you  happen 
to  see  what  is  going  on;  for  if  you  even 
mildly  suggest  that  you  do  not  approve  of 
such  republican  customs  as  those  to  which 
my  unfortunate  country-people  are  subjected, 
in  every  instance,  you  will  be  in  danger  of 
various  fashionable  explosives — or  worse — 
the  French  law  courts,  where  they  talk  in 
high  C  through  their  noses  for  hours  and 
hours  about  every  bagatelle,  until  you  go 
away  more  like  a  lunatic  than  an  ordinary 
person,  with  your  nerves  tingling,  and  your 
mind  (if  you  are  fortunate  enough  to  have 
preserved  any)  a  seething,  boiling,  gray  mass. 
The  doctors  say  that  the  brain  is  gray  matter, 
do  they  not  ? 

You  return  from  the  Palais  de  Justice  quite 
exhausted,  and  go  to  bed  for  two  days  or  so 
with  hysterics — if  you  are  a  woman ;  but  ah  ! 
if  you  are  a  man — then  you  throw  out  your 
chest,  and  hunt  up  all  your  friends,  with  whom 


THE     SHADOW     OF    DESIRE.  253 

you  d — n  Paris  up  hill  and  down,  and  swear 
that  you  will  make  a  reform  if  you  have  to 
spend  your  last  franc  on  its  accomplishment. 
But  you  never  do  anything  but  talk — no,  not 
you.  You  simply  take  another  drink,  and  go 
for  a  drive  in  the  Bois  to  cool  your  manly 
brow.  There  you  see  strings  of  gaudy  car 
riages  filled  with  uncanny  looking  French 
dames,  who  ogle  you  while  you  wonder 
vaguely  what  they  would  look  like  should 
they  in  a  rash  moment  wash  off  that  mask 
of  white  and  red. 

You  shiver  as  several  purple  veils — the 
latest  monstrosity  of  '92 — shock  your  artistic 
eye  ;  for  of  course  we  give  the  man  about 
Paris  the  credit  of  being  artistic,  or  he  would 
not  rave  so  much  about  the  pretty  Pari- 
siennes,  who  get  themselves  up  after  the 
manner  of  a  Chinese  Joss.  I  hear  that  next 
year  the  newest  whim  is  to  be  ebonized  teeth ; 
and  a  black  interrogation  mark  over  each  eye 
brow  will  be  d  la  mode. 

These  purple  veils  of  which  I  speak  make 
the  poor  ladies  look  as  though  they  had  been 
dead  and  buried  for  six  months,  and  the  green 


254  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

mould  had  gathered  by  the  time  that  the  stu 
dents  had  dug  them  up  and  paraded  them 
through  the  Hois  as  a  ghastly  joke. 

Even  the  cachet  of  the  French  modiste  has 
disappeared ;  judging  from  the  fearful  and 
wonderful  things  they  "  create "  now,  the 
artistes  have  all  flown  to  more  congenial 
countries. 

France  is  now  on  the  eve  of  another  hideous 
revolution ;  well,  a  sound  thrashing  would  do 
her  good,  would  be  very  beneficial  to  her 
morals,  manners — and  tactics,  in  fact. 

The  judge  on  the  bench  is  mortally  afraid  of 
the  culprit  he  is  judging ;  for  he  feels  the 
strong  tow  of  the  under  current,  and  knows 
that  any  night  he  may  be  dragged  out  of  his 
bed  by  the  howling,  blood-thirsty  hounds,  and 
rushed  off  to  be  made  oil  for  the  guillotine. 

Whenever  I  am  in  Paris,  if  I  allow  myself 
one  hour's  solitude,  I  feel  restless,  morbid  and 
furious ;  and  I  often  wonder  if  it  is  not  the 
dumb,  unconscious  influence  of  the  souls  of  the 
slaughtered,  that  causes  such  a  state  of  mind. 

Paris  has  gone  through  many  battles  of 
blood ;  maybe  that  is  why  the  trees  in  her 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  255 

wide,  lovely  streets  flourish  so  wonderfully. 
The  salvation  of  France  may  yet  be  brought 
about  by  a  few  of  her  women ;  I  mean  her 
serious  earnest  women;  I  know  several  of 
them.  There  is  no  one  who  works  harder  or 
more  faithfully  than  many  of  these  French 
women  (although,  according  to  the  law  of 
France,  their  rights  are  no  more  than  those  of 
a  dog),  while  their  lords  and  masters  lounge 
in  the  wine-shops,  drinking  cognac  and  ab 
sinthe,  or  spend  their  last  sou  at  the  races. 

When  I  first  came  to  France  I  was  full  of 
sentiment  and  adoration  for  everything 
French.  I  loved  even  the  wood-paved  Boule 
vards  ;  the  street-criers  had  rare  music  for 
me  ;  I  haunted  the  picture  galleries,  museums, 
churches,  and  libraries;  and  grew  hot  with 
indignation  if  any  of  my  friends  spoke  slight 
ingly  of  the  people.  But  now,  ah  me !  it 
makes  me  well-nigh  weep  when  I  think  of  my 
disillusion.  I  grieve  almost  as  though  I  had 
lost  something  very  near  and  dear  to  me. 
Perhaps  some  day  the  old  Regime  will  return 
to  France ;  and  then  life  will  be  pleasant 
living  there. 


256  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Standing  in  the  pit  of  the  Grand  Opera 
House,  Will  Dunston  swept  his  glass  around 
the  boxes.  Yes !  There  she  was  in  a  box  on 
the  second  tier.  She  was  leaning  forward  a 
little,  her  eyes  shining,  her  lips  parted,  while 
listening  in  rapture — all  unconscious  of  the 
great  sorrow  in  store  for  her — to  Lohengrin's 
farewell  to  the  swan. 

He  rushed  up  stairs,  and  knocked  at  the 
door  of  the  box.  It  was  opened  by  John 
Howes  who  greeted  him  cordially. 

"  Why,  how  are  you,  old  man  ?  Come  in," 
and  Ruth  was  startled  a  second  after  by  his 
shadow  over  her,  and  his  voice  beside  her. 
She  glanced  up  and  greeted  him  coldly. 

"  I  thought  you  intended  staying  with  Mrs. 
Olney,"  he  was  saying. 

"  Yes,  I  did  expect  to  do  so,  but  received  a 
note  at  the  last  moment  stating  that  she  was 
bored  with  Paris,  and  had  taken  her  whole 
manage  off  to  Pau  for  the  season." 

"  She  will  get  some  good  runs  there  if  she 
has  a  few  'Irishmen.'  It's  a  '  banking' 
country  more  or  less,''  he  remarked  absently, 
gazing  down  at  her,  and  noticing  with  admira- 


THE    SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  257 

tion  every  detail  of  her  exquisite  toilette.  She 
wore  a  white  tulle  robe,  with  a  faint  rose  tint 
here  and  there  ;  and  in  her  hair  was  twined  a 
wreath  of  white  jasmine.  The  single  string 
of  white  pearls  which  she  wore  around  her 
throat  made  her  skin  look  more  deliciously 
fair  than  ever. 

She  was  looking  with  curious  wonder  at  his 
arm,  which  was  carefully  done  up.  Just  then 
Mrs.  Howes  touched  his  arm  with  her  fan. 

"  What  was  it,  Mr.  Dunston  \  Another 
1  cropper  ? '  J>  she  smilingly  asked. 

"  No,  it  was  a  '  voluntary '  this  time,"  he 
answered  almost  rudely,  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders.  He  did  not  like  being  questioned, 
and  gave  people  very  little  satisfaction  when 
they  were  inquisitive. 

He  was  half  mad  with  anxiety,  and  maneu 
vered  to  be  with  Ruth  a  moment  alone,  so  he 
could  induce  her  to  return  to  the  hotel,  where 
they  could  talk  to  better  advantage,  and  he 
could  tell  her  that  she  was  free.  His  conceit 
was  so  great  that  he  firmly  believed  she  would 
be  glad.  He  did  not  realize  that  the  reason  she 
had  said  "  Yes  "  the  night  of  the  ice-party  was 


258  THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE. 

because  she  was  afraid  of  him.  He  attributed 
the  loving  attention  she  showed  her  husband 
to  feminine  deceit. 

"  Will  you  go  for  a  walk  with  me  in  the 
foyer  ? ''  he  asked. 

"  Twill  during  the  entre-acte,"  she  answered 
wearily. 

"  No,  no  ;  come  now  !  "  he  whispered. 

"  Hush !     Elsa  is  singing  "  she  replied. 

In  a  box  opposite  Jack  Carey  was  talking 
with  Mrs.  Ralph  Dawson.  The  little  lady  had 
grown  stouter  even  in  a* few  weeks.  She  was 
gowned  in  peacock  blue,  and  blazing  with 
diamonds.  Jack  Carey  had  met  her  in  New 
York  the  year  before ;  she  was  quite  a  study 
to  him  in  her  heavy  way.  It  was  always  a 
matter  of  wonder  to  him  how  she  could  hold 
her  position  in  society  with  her  common-place 
intelligence ;  but  perhaps  this  was  attributable 
to  her  marvelous  fund  of  small  talk. 

Mrs.  Olney  had  once  assured  him  that  it  was 
the  lady's  good  chef  that  made  her  so  popular. 

The  soprano  was  loudly  applauded,  and 
amid  the  confusion  Will  Dunston  almost 
dragged  Ruth  out.  They  went  down  the 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  259 

marble  staircase,  and  out  into  the  wide  hall 
which  overlooks  the  Avenue  de  1' Opera.  She 
shrank  away  from  the  touch  of  his  arm,  and 
loathed  herself  as  usual  for  coming  with  him, 
but  she  knew  there  would  have  been  an  argu 
ment  if  she  had  not  come. 

People  were  promenading  up  and  down. 
She  went  over  to  a  window  and  looked  out. 
The  lamps  were  twinkling  in  long  rows  far 
down  the  streets,  and  the  gay  world  of  Paris 
was  rolling  on.  He  had  no  pity,  and  did  not 
hesitate  for  an  instant ;  but  bending  down  he 
looked  her  full  in  the  eyes,  whispering,  "  Will 
you  come  away  with  me  now,  Buth  ? '' 

"  How  you  weary  me !  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
speak  to  me  of  such  things,'5  she  answered, 
looking  deadly  bored,  and  turning  to  go.  He 
had  even  lost  his  animal  magnetism  for  her 
now  ;  but  nevertheless  she  was  still  afraid  of 
him,  she  knew  not  why. 

"  Don't  go,  Buth,  I've  something  to  say  to 
you." 

They  were  quite  alone  in  the  foyer,  and 
only  the  steady  tramp  of  a  guard  far  down 
the  hall  below  broke  the  stillness. 


260  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

"  He's  dead,  Ruth,  and  you  belong  to  me 
now  ! J>  His  fingers  closed  convulsively  on  her 
arm,  and  he  held  her  as  in  a  vice,  when  she 
attempted  to  move,  so  that  she  felt  again  the 
old  pain  of  his  cruel  hand. 

"  Waldo  dead!  and  you  have  killed  him  !  " 
she  screamed.  "Oh,  my  God,  it  is  horrible !  *' 
She  covered  her  face  and  swayed  like  a  reed, 
but  he  held  her  firmly. 

"  Don't  play  the  hypocrite  with  me,  woman  !" 
he  whispered  fiercely.  "You  know  that  in 
your  heart  of  hearts  you  are  glad  to  be  rid  of 
a  man  you  never  loved,  a  man  who  should 
have  adopted  you  instead  of  marrying  you," 
he  added,  with  a  nasty  sneer.  She  wrenched 
herself  away  from  him,  and  struck  him  full 
in  the  mouth. 

"  You  fool !  "  she  cried.  "  How  I  hate  you ! 
And  if  you  want  to  know  the  truth,  I've  always 
hated  you — even  when  we  were  children  to 
gether  I  detested  you,  for  I  understood  and 
fathomed  the  abomination  of  that  iniquity  you 
call  your  soul.  If  I  have  ever  yielded  to  you 
one  moment,  it  was  because  you  have  made 
the  sensual  part  of  my  nature  your  study,  and 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE.  261 

brought  all  your  evil  power  to  bear  on  it. 
You  thought  to  subject  me  as  you  did  poor 
Mildred,  for  whose  death  and  ruin  you  must 
account  on  the  great  Judgment  Day.  You 
have  bored  and  persecuted  me  for  months, 
and  the  only  reason  that  I  wasted  a  moment 
on  you,  was  because  I  was  a  vain  idiot,  and 
considered  myself  invulnerable ;  then  I  was 
frightened,  and  wanted  to  escape  from  the  trap 
I  had  set  for  myself.  But  I  am  not  frightened 
now — and  I  will  fight  you  to  the  death,  inch 
by  inch,  for  the  world  isn't  big  enough  to  hold 
us  two.  "Will  Dunston,  I  hate  you  !  you  un 
derstand  ?  I  hate  you,  and  will  leave  no  stone 
unturned  to  bring  you  where  you  should  be. 
I  hate  you ! " 

She  was  so  weak  that  she  scarcely  spoke 
above  a  whisper ;  but  the  words  tumbled  over 
each  other  thick  and  fast ;  her  slight  frame 
was  shaking  with  emotion,  and  she  leaned 
against  a  stone  column  for  support. 

"  Ah,  Waldo,  Waldo,  forgive  me ! "  she 
moaned.  Her  eyes  were  dry  and  hot,  for  no 
tears  came  to  her  relief. 

Will  Dunston  stared  at  her  dumbly,  hie  wild 


262  THE     SHADOW     OF     DEBIBE. 

eyes  shining  like  those  of  one  insane.  So  he 
had  lost  this  woman,  the  only  woman  he  had 
ever  felt  like  fighting  or  dying  for.  His  great 
passion  unnerved  him  when  he  realized  that 
he  had  played  his  last  card  in  vain  ;  and  he 
lost  control,  and  sobbed  hoarsely. 

"Ah,  I  thought  you  would  do  that,  you 
coward  !  "  she  cried,  turning  on  him  with  the 
fury  of  a  tigress.  "  But  why  not  go  out  and 
do  the  only  decent  thing  you  can  in  your  posi 
tion,  and  end  your  miserable  life  ?  " 

She  left  him  and  tottered  towards  the  box 
where  her  friends  were,  with  the  intention 
of  denouncing  him  as  a  murderer.  Her  voice 
was  too  weak  to  call  for  help  from  the  guards 
below.  Will  Dunston  watched  her  in  a  hope 
less,  paralyzed  way.  Then  he  sped  down  the 
corridors,  and  the  grand  stair-way,  on,  into  the 
night.  The  voices  of  the  wind  pursued  him, 
as  he  ran  like  a  mad  man  down  the  avenue. 

A  poor,  painted  creature  of  the  streets 
caught  at  his  wounded  arm,  and  begged  for  a 
night's  lodging.  He  struck  her  savagely  aside, 
and  rushed  ahead.  He  wanted  to  be  alone ; 
but  go  as  fast  as  he  would  the  plaintive  voices 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESTKE.  263 

of  the  wind  kept  up  with  him,  and  the  cold 
stars  seemed  to  follow  him  with  watchful  eyes. 

Presently  he  came  to  the  river,  which  was 
gliding  between  the  stone  embankments  like 
a  huge,  hungry  serpent,  waiting  to  devour  his 
wretched  body.  Lights  were  gleaming  in  the 
cafe  near,  and  he  stumbled  in,  and  fell  on  the 
nearest  bench.  Meanly  clad  men  and  women 
were  sitting  around  smoking  and  drinking. 
Their  brutal  faces  were  marked  with  many 
crimes  and  vices.  Their  irritating,  high- 
pitched  voices  drowned  the  voices  of  the  wind ; 
and  he  was  grateful  for  a  moment's  respite. 

A  dirty  waiter  approached  and  asked  him 
what  he  wishe$ ;  and  he  ordered  a  carafe,  of 
cognac,  and  a  bottle  of  absinthe,  and  tossed  off 
glass  after  glass  of  the  hellish  mixture,  until 
the  noise  of  the  cafe,  and  the  ghostly  voices  of 
the  wind  made  a  confused  discord  in  his 
drunken  brain.  At  last  he  lost  consciousness, 
and  fell  forward  with  his  head  on  the  table. 

11  IB  this  the  end,  is  this  the  end  ?" 

TENNYSON. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

*'  Art  thou  lovely  in  thy  tomb  ? 
Art  thou  cold  in  such  a  gloom  ? 
Bouse  thee  then,  and  make  me  room, 
Miserere  Domine.1' 

ERIO  MACK.AT. 

MRS.  HOWES  was  startled  by  hearing  some 
thing  fall  heavily  against  the  door  of  the  open 
box;  and  on  opening,  was  horrified  to  see 
Ruth  prostrate  on  the  floor.  Jack  Carey  lifted 
her  up,  and  took  her  inside.  She  was  quite 
unconscious,  so  they  carried  her  down  to  the 
carriage,  and  drove  rapidly  back  to  the  hotel, 
where  the  clerk  handed  Jack  Carey  the  letters 
from  Colonel  Cockletree,  explaining  every 
thing. 

It  was  all  kept  very  quiet,  and  a  week  after 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIRE.  265 

Jack  Carey  and  Buth  Bronson  sailed  on  a 
French  steamer  for  New  York. 

They  took  Waldo  Bronson's  remains  to 
Maryland,  and  had  them  interred  in  the  family 
vault  as  directed. 

One  night  after  they  had  been  at  sea  two  or 
three  days,  the  storm  made  the  ship  roll  about 
like  a  swaggering  monster ;  Buth  was  restless, 
and  feverishly  longing  for  a  breath  of  fresh 
air ;  so  she  rose  softly,  and  slipping  on  a  big 
fur-lined  cloak,  crept  out  of  the  cabin,  as  she 
did  not  wish  to  awaken  Martha,  who  was  sleep 
ing  on  the  sofa  by  the  port-hole,  and  dreaming 
no  doubt  of  the  "  Fields  of  yaller  corn." 
Reaching  the  deck,  she  went  well  forward, 
and  crouched  down  on  the  floor  on  a  coil  of 
rope.  The  ship  dipped  far  down  in  the 
phosphorescent,  foaming  waters,  as  she 
ploughed  unsteadily  along.  The  horizon 
seemed  very  near ;  and  great  dark  clouds  like 
phantom  bats  were  flying  across  the  angry  steel- 
colored  sky.  Flocks  of  sea  birds,  worn  out 
by  the  recent  hurricane,  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  riggings,  and  were  calling  plaintively  now 
and  then  to  each  other. 


286  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

Kuth  felt  that  she  was  going  mad,  for  she 
had  to  exert  all  her  strength  of  will-power  to 
keep  from  leaping  into  the  ocean,  where  she 
could  be  carried  down,  down  into  black  ob 
livion,  where  her  brain  would  not  be  so  hot, 
nor  the  pain  in  her  heart  so  endless.  She 
thought  of  her  dead  lying  below  in  the  ship. 
How  cold  and  lonely  he  must  be  in  the  dark 
ness.  An  awful  longing  possessed  her  to  steal 
quietly  to  him,  tear  off  the  coffin-lid,  and  lie 
down  by  his  side  all  through  the  night ;  she 
felt  sure  ne  would  make  room  for  her,  even 
though  dead. 

"  Ah,  Waldo,  Waldo !  Forgive,  forgive  !  " 
she  moaned,  with  her  white  face  turned  up  to 
the  pitiless  sky. 

A  man,  muffled  in  a  storm-coat,  walking  up 
and  down,  observed  the  little  black-robed 
figure  as  he  passed  by ;  he  turned  and  went 
aft.  It  was  Jack  Carey ;  but  she  did  not  sec 
him.  A  few  pale  stars  peeped  timidly  out 
from  the  purple  sky,  throwing  a  violet  shade 
over  the  water. 

She  sat  there  far  into  the  night,  until  driven 
into  her  cabin  by  the  break  of  day ;  and  then 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  267 

she  lay  down  in  her  berth,  oppressed  by  that 
utter  hopelessness  which  comes  to  so  few  spirits, 
loathing  herself,  and  rebelling  against  God  and 
destiny. 

'*  After  life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well." 

SHAKESPEARE. 


CHAPTEK  XX. 

"  Thought  and  affliction,  passion,  hell  itself, 
She  turns  to  favor  and  to  prettiness." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

RUTH  had  been  at  the  old  homestead  in 
Virginia  for  almost  six  months ;  and  during 
that  time  Mrs.  Milson  died.  She  had  been  in 
delicate  health  for  some  time,  and  Ruth's  mis 
fortune  had  aggravated  her  malady. 

Betty,  who  had  always  been  the  family 
guide,  assumed  the  whole  command  of  the 
household,  and  by  her  bright,,  unselfish  ex 
ample,  made  the  home-life  once  more  worth 
living. 

Ruth  spent  the  long  days  in  the  dear,  old- 
fashioned  garden,  where  she  dreamed  away 
the  hours  with  the  flowers  and  insects. 

She  knew  that  she  had  gone  mad,  and  at 
times  wondered  when  she  would  awaken,  and 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  -  269 

feel  as  other  people  did  ;  for  she  heard  and 
saw  everything  through  a  soft,  misty  veil  of 
uncertainty.  She  did  not  even  suffer  now,  for 
her  blood  felt  sluggish,  and  her  nerves  numb. 

She  would  sit  for  hours  in  the  boat  that  rose 
and  fell  with  the  pulse  of  the  river,  where  it 
was  tied  at  the  foot  of  the  shelter.  The  water 
rippled  by  with  a  soothing  song ;  and  she 
would  often  lean  over  and  dip  her  hands  in 
the  cool,  clear  depths,  and  watch  the  tiny 
darting  gudgeons  nibble  at  her  fingers. 

How  thin  she  had  grown !  Every  vein  was 
traceable  like  a  blue  thread  through  the  trans 
parent  skin ;  and  around  her  big,  gray  eyes 
the  purple  shadows  had  deepened. 

She  went  down  every  day  to  the  culvert, 
and  the  brick  well  on  the  terrace,  and  gave  a 
low,  familiar  whistle ;  when,  if  you  watched 
intently,  you  could  see  tiny  heads  peeping  out 
here  and  there  with  shining  bright  eyes.  They 
were  her  snakes  and  frogs  and  terrapin.  The 
terrapin  would  swim  after  her  as  she  walked 
listlessly  along  the  banks,  their  awkward  necks 
and  heads  craning  and  bobbing,  and  their 
funny  little  fins  of  feet  paddling  away  like  ill- 


270  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRK. 

adjusted  oars.  She  frequently  heard  from 
Jack  Carey,  and  he  came  to  see  her  very  often 
also. 

He  was  a  promising  young  politician  now, 
and  his  success  made  her  very  glad.  His 
letters  to  her  were  full  of  his  ambitions  and 
struggles,  and  of  his  great  love  for  her.  Yet 
he  knew  that  she  had  only  the  same  affection 
for  him  that  she  had  for  her  brothers  ;  even 
as  he  knew  that  her  youth  and  love  were 
buried  in  the  grave  of  Waldo  Bronson. 

He  had  seen  her  kiss  the  dead  man's  poor, 
wounded  temple,  when  he  was  brought  to  her 
in  Paris ;  and  he  had  seen  her  slowly  and 
surely  growing  mad,  but  he  had  watched  over 
her  all  the  while  as  tenderly  and  lovingly  as 
only  a  devoted  man  knows  how  to  watch. 
Every  week  he  went  down  from  Washington  to 
see  her.  Late  in  the  new  year,  he  saw  that  she 
was  slowly  recovering.  Her  mind  was  more 
concentrated,  and  he  thanked  her  sister  Betty 
for  the  change.  Betty  Milson  was  never  too 
busy  with  her  poor  to  forget  that  "  charity 
begins  at  home ; v  and  Jack  Carey  blessed  and 
loved  every  gray  hair  that  clustered  around 


THE     SHADOW     OP     DESIKE.  271 

her  gentle  face.  He  was  sure  that  with  Ruth 
as  his  wife,  he  could  accomplish  great  things 
for  his  country  and  State.  He  knew  from 
experience  that  she  was  a  born  diplomat. 
Everything  he  did  was  in  the  hope  of  her 
approval ;  and  if  she  had  died,  our  glorious 
country  would  have  lost  one  of  its  ablest  men, 
for  he  only  lived  and  worked  under  her  guid 
ance,  and  for  her  and  her  only.  She  loved 
her  country  and  her  people,  and  felt  that  she 
ought  not  to  lead  such  a  living  death. 

Even  while  insane,  she  was  aware  that  under 
her  influence  Jack  Carey  would  gain  honors 
that  no  politician  had  ever  achieved  so  young. 
She  understood  only  too  well  that  she  loved 
him  in  the  way  that  she  loved  her  brothers 
Carroll  and  Herbert ;  and  at  the  thought  of 
marrying  him,  the  old  cry  would  rush  to  her 
lips,  u  Ah,  Waldo,  Waldo,  forgive,  forgive ! v 
Then  her  mind  would  wander  again ;  and  she 
would  spend  hours  roaming  about  the  gardens, 
and  woods,  and  by  the  river,  crying  aloud  on 
her  dead  husband. 

**  O,  without  thee  what  am  I  ?  " 

SON*. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

"  I  love  thee  with  a  love  I  seemed  to  lose 

With  my  lost  saints  ;  I  love  thee  with  the  breath, 
Smiles,  tears,  of  all  my  life— and,  if  God  choose, 
I  shall  but  love  thee  better  after  death." 

BROWNING. 

IT  was  in  March,  and  Ruth  had  been  home 
over  a  year.  The  snow-drops  and  crocuses 
were  "  a-blowing  and  a-growing "  in  unex 
pected  spots  all  through  the  garden  and  fields. 
Shy-eyed  violets  smiled  sweetly  up  from  sunny 
corners  ;  and  the  birds  seemed  unusually  busy. 

Ruth  was  walking  briskly  up  the  path  that 
led  to  the  village.  She  was  beginning  to  take 
an  active  interest  in  Betty's  parish  work.  A 
faint  rose-color  tinted  her  delicate  face,  and 
her  eyes  shone  with  their  former  intelligence. 

As  she  passed  by  the  post-office,  she  dropped 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE,  373 

a  large  letter  into  the  box,  a  letter  addressed 
to  Jack  Carey,  in  answer  to  an  appeal  she  had 
received  from  him  the  night  before.  She 
turned  away  without  regret,  after  she  knew 
that  the  letter  was  posted  beyond  recall,  and 
continued  on  her  different  errands  of  charity 
and  benevolence. 

She  seemed  to  hear  the  voice  of  her  dead 
husband  wishing  her  peace  and  happiness  as 
she  went  along. 

"Ah,  Waldo,  Waldo!   is  it  for  the  best? 
You  who  know  me  better  than  I  do  myself— 
know  that  it  is  for  the  cause,  for  the  cause,  dear 
Waldo,  that  I  shall  do  it,  and  not  through 
love  of  Jack !  "  she  murmured. 

The  spicy  spring  breezes  kissed  her  cheek, 
as  she  seemed  to  hear  her  husband's  voice  say 
in  reply,  "  It  is  well,  baby  Ruth,  my  darling." 

She  returned  home  with  a  heart  outrivaling 
the  birds'  hearts  in  its  gladness. 

As  she  passed  through  the  garden  gate,  she 
stooped  and  picked  a  handful  of  snow-drops, 
which  were  blooming  on  the  edge  of  the  path. 
When  she  reached  her  chamber  she  placed 
them  in  a  glass  of  water  before  a  miniature  of 


274  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

her  husband,  which  she  kept  on  her  dressing- 
table  ;  his  kind  eyes  smiled  at  her  from  out 
the  ivory ;  and  she  almost  felt  his  presence  in 
the  room,  so  close  ivas  the  tie  between  their 
two  souls,  though  his  had  gone  on  its  long, 
mysterious  journey  without  her  own. 

Jack  Carey  was  going  out  to  a  State  func 
tion  the  next  night,  when  her  letter  was 
handed  to  him ;  his  handsome,  boyish  face 
paled  with  anticipation,  and  his  hands  trem 
bled  so  that  he  could  scarcely  tear  open  the 
envelope. 

"I  remember  when  we  were  children  to 
gether,  that  you  always  called  me  your  '  little 
wife,'  dear  Jack,"  the  letter  ran.  "You 
vowed  that  you  would  have  no  other — that 
you  would  be  true  to  me  ;  and  you  have  kept 
your  vow,  dear.  Even  in  those  ideal  days,  I 
never  gave  you  my  promise,  though.  You  ask 
me  to  stand  by  you,  and  help  you  in  your  am 
bition  ;  but,  Jack,  can't  you  accept  my  advice 
and  help  without  marriage  ?  After  all,  what 
is  marriage?  It  is  simply  an  empty  form, 
which  binds  two  people  by  vows  which  human 
frailty  is  so  often  tempted  to  break  ;  and  then 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  275 

they  blame  each  other,  forgetting  that  the 
blood  goes  to  the  head  without  invitation. 

"Marriage  in  the  beginning  was,  in  my 
humble  opinion,  a  contract  between  men  and 
women  who  do  not  trust  each  other.  Of 
course,  I  do  not  deny  that  it  is  most  praise 
worthy  for  properly  regulated  Christians ;  so 
I  suppose  that  when  you  come  into  full  power 
you  will  pass  a  bill  making  the  bonds  of  matri 
mony  more  binding  than  ever.  But  I  mustn't 
tease  you,  Jack,  so  I  will  hasten  to  answer 
your  question. 

"  You  beg  me  to  be  your  wife,  knowing  that 
I  do  not  love  you.  Are  you  not  afraid,  you 
brave  boy  ? 

"  I  wonder  if  any  woman  was  ever  aware 
of  her  own  insanity  ?  Jack,  dear,  I  have  been 
aware  of  how  pitifully  mad  I  have  been  ever 
since  my  husband  was  so  brutally  taken  from 
me.  It  is  only  a  few  weeks  since  I  have 
grown  at  all  sane ;  it  is  not  a  happy  nor  good 
exchange,  for  I  rebel  against  fate  and  dream 
of  c  what  dreams  may  come.'  I  have  a  vague 
recollection  of  picking  up  a  book  with  that 
title  once  ;  I  do  not  remember  who  wrote  it, 


276  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIHE. 

or  whether  it  was  considered  fine,  but  a  strange 
feeling  ran  through  me  of  the  possibilities  of 
'  what  dreams  may  come.' 

"  Dreams !  WTien  we  are  babies,  with  our 
wonder-eyes  full  of  the  infinite,  trusting, 
dumb,  and  content  if  we  are  allowed  to  suck 
our  tiny  pink  toes,  and  look  up  goo-gooing 
into  our  mother's  face,  that  tender,  beautiful 
face,  which  seems  to  us  a  poem  full  of  satis 
faction  and  bliss — no  matter  how  plain  she 
may  be  to  the  more  practical  world,  to  our 
adoring  eyes  she  is  perfection — then  we  dream. 
A  sleepy  comfort  pervades  our  little  hearts  as 
we  drink  in  the  sweet,  warm  milk  from  her 
willing  breasts,  while  she  croons  to  us  until 
we  can  almost  hear  the  soothing  sweep  of 
angels*  wings,  as  we  are  wafted  to  the  shores 
of  Slumber-land.  Sometimes  in  the  night  I 
would  dream  that  my  mother's  face  gleamed 
over  me  like  a  glorious  star;  but  her  eyes 
were  sad — ah,  wondrous  sad,  and  a  fear  would 
seize  me  that  unhappiness  hovered  over  her. 
When  her  tears  fell  hot  and  fast  on  my  baby  face 
I  would  stretch  out  my  little  arms  to  comfort 
her,  and  nestle  close  with  my  ear  pressed  near 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIBE.  277 

to  her  heart,  listening  to  its  beats.  Then  the 
kind  angel  of  peace  overshadowed  me,  and  I 
slept But  the  dreams  of  later  life. 

"  I  dreamed  once  that  God  was  a  capricious 
child,  wilful  and  unreliable.  The  earth  was 
his  football,  fancy  his  playground,  and  we  his 
toys.  Sometimes  when  he  was  pleased  he 
gave  us  a  tea  party ;  and  all  the  dolls  in  favor 
were  invited. 

"  We  all  roamed  through  a  garden,  where 
wonderful  flowers  and  fruits  bloomed  and 
ripened  ;  honey  dripped  from  the  fountains, 
and  the  bubbling  springs  were  sweet  with 
strange  perfumes.  "We  all  sang  with  the  birds, 
and  our  joy  was  one  with  theirs.  Often  God 
was  angry ;  a  cruel,  petulant  mood  would 
possess  him,  chilling  us  like  the  deadly  cold 
mist  which  creeps  over  a  lowland  after  the 
sun  has  gone  on  a  journey.  Sea-gulls  would 
scream  on  the  lonely  crags,  and  the  timid 
moor-hen  shiver  on  her  nest  in  the  rushes. 
Then  we  were  cast  out  of  our  paradise,  if  we 
were  dolls  fortunate  enough  to  have  a  paradise 
to  lose,  and  were  left  to  wander  about  in  a 
wilderness  dangerous  and  horrible.  Our  little 


278  THE     8HADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

feet  danced,  crawled,  and  wandered  about  like 
those  of  an  automaton  when  the  strings  are 
pulled.  Sometimes  he  led  us  gently  and  lov 
ingly  along.  Then  suddenly  we  felt  an  angry 
pull  which  jerked  us  off  our  feet,  and  knew 
instinctively  that  we  were  dangling  over  some 
awful  pit  of  uncertainty. 

"  Often,  now,  I  dream  of  space,  terrible, 
endless  space,  and  of  how  cold  it  is  out  there. 
I  am  cold  even  at  the  thought,  despite  the  fire 
burning  near  me,  and  my  warm  furs.  How 
cold  the  poor,  naked  spirit  must  be  when  it  is 
cast  out  from  the  nice,  soft,  warm  body,  which 
scientists  call  clay.  What  do  they  know  about 
it?  Simply  nothing,  nothing,  nothing.  It 
seems  to  me  that  like  Robert  Buchanan's 
'  Balder  the  Beautiful,'  '  I  was  born  in  a  dream, 
and  I  dwell  in  a  dream,  and  I  go  in  a  dream 
to  die.' 

"  Some  good  men  tell  us  that  we  can  only 
hope,  believe,  and  pray.  But  what  can  they 
say  when  we  get  them  to  the  wall  and  ques 
tion  them  too  closely  ?  Why  should  we  be  in 
such  a  position  as  to  be  frightened  into  prayer  ; 
and  for  what,  and  to  whom  shall  we  pray  ? 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE.  279 

We  did  not  ask  to  be,  or  to  go ;  I  hugged 
those  lines  to  my  heart  of  Omar  Khayydm 
when  first  I  read  them ;  they  gave  me  a  grim 
satisfaction : 

'  What  without  asking,  hither  hurried,  whence  ? 
And  without  asking  whither  hurried  hence  ? 
Oh,  many  a  cup  of  this  forbidden  wine, 
Must  drown  the  memory  of  that  insolence.' 

"  They  assure  me  that  I  am  a  soul  sent  for 
a  purpose.  I  grind  my  teeth  in  rebellion,  for 
T  hate  a  purpose  ;  and  I  should  hate  being  a 
puppet.  After  all,  perhaps  I  am  an  animated 
puppet. 

"  How  I  have  adored  strong  and  beautiful 
things.  I  have  loved  music,  warmth,  sunlight, 
intoxications,  and  all  things  that  snakes  and 
butterflies  love.  I  have  delighted  in  curling 
myself  up,  soft  and  cosy,  in  silken  things.  I 
have  loved  my  slender,  supple  limbs,  and  the 
gold  down  on  my  arms  just  where  they  round, 
and  the  blue  veins  meandering  off  like  a  tiny 
stream  down  a  bend  in  the  hills.  I  have  loved 
my  life,  which  I  have  felt  throbbing  in  fresh 
youth ;  and  I  have  loved  my  love,  for  he  was 
true  and  tender;  and  this  love  for  him  has 


280  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

maddened  me.  Ah,  bliss,  eternal,  infinite! 
i  What  dreams  may  come.'  It  rings  through 
my  tired  brain  like  a  knell,  for  the  dreams 
that  came  true  were  horrible. 

"  Now  I  feel  old,  old ;  my  blood  is  thin  and 
pale  like  the  juice  of  a  stale  pomegranate.  My 
heart  responds  no  more.  All  its  cunning  ma 
chinery  has  rusted  long  ago  ;  but  that  was  the 
night  when  the  horrid  dreams  came  true,  and 
my  heart  broke  with  a  crash  ;  ah,  God !  how 
it  hurt.  They  say  that  I  have  been  insane.  I 
dream  that  I  am  so  still.  But  I  live  in  a 
dream ;  and  am  perhaps  happier  so,  for  the 
power  of  suffering  has  died  long  ago.  Only 
the  spirits  know  all.  They  are  kind,  and  cool, 
and  gray,  as  they  crowd  around  my  bed  at 
night  to  soothe  me.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever 
really  awake,  and  realize  the  joys  of  '  what 
dreams  may  come.' 

"  You  say  that  your  ambition  will  die,  Jack, 
if  I  do  not  marry  you.  Are  you  ready  to  ac 
cept  a  woman  whose  love  has  all  been  left 
on  the  road  behind  her?  A  woman  whose 
brain  is  sick  and  mad  with  its  own  follies  ?  A 
woman  older  than  you  ?  Is  it  true  that  you 


THE     SHADOW     OF     DE8IKE.  281 

would  be  content  if  you  only  had  the  legal 
right  to  protect  me  ?  Ah,  Jack !  Such  love 
is  only  known  perhaps  in  some  undiscovered 
country.  I  feel  that  as  your  wife  my  youth 
might  return,  and  that  this  fire  which  burns 
in  my  brain  would  be  quenched  ;  but  I  hesi 
tate,  I  hesitate ;  because  your  ambition  is  too 
much  a  part  of  myself  for  me  to  be  a  barrier, 
though  'twas  I  who  first  fanned  it  into  flame, 
you  remember? 

"  When  you  come  to  me  Sunday,  I  will  pro 
mise  you  to  go  hand  in  hand  with  you  until 
your  goal  in  life  is  reached,  if  you  still  desire 
me  to  do  so  after  reading  this  wild  letter. 

"  God  grant  that  you  may  soon  taste  the 
fruit  of  your  ambition  ;  for  life  of  late  has 
thrown  out  fresh  shoots  of  interest  for  me,  and 
does  not  pall  upon  me  as  it  did  some  months 
ago.  "KuTH." 

Jack  Carey  folded  the  closely-written  sheets 
of  foreign  paper  lovingly,  and  put  them  away 
carefully  in  his  pocket.  A  divine  light  shone 
in  his  face,  making  it  appear  grand  and  god 
like,  and  he  hastily  sent  off  a  telegram,  with 
his  old-time  impulsiveness — "  We  shall  pass  a 


283  THE     SHADOW     OF     DESIRE. 

bill  together  that  will  open  the  gates  of  a  fairy 
land." 

The  next  day  he  was  with  her.  She  received 
him  in  the  garden  where  the  brown  earth  was 
bursting  into  verdure. 

They  went  down  the  old  paths,  through  the 
fields  and  down  to  the  shelter  where  the  boat 
was  moored.  The  waves  curled  softly  over 
the  beach,  and  the  grace  and  promise  of  spring 
time  was  everywhere  visible  on  earth  and  in 
the  air.  The  possession  of  her  filled  his  being 
with  ecstacy. 

She  looked  at  the  boy  thoughtfully  and 
earnestly.  The  lines  of  her  face  revealed  only 
the  resigned  and  the  unimpassioned  woman, 
which  destiny,  inexorable  and  pitiless,  had 
finally  evolved.  The  conflict  and  the  strife 
of  the  once  restless  heart  was  subdued,  and 
far  into  the  depths  of  the  gray  eyes  there  dwelt 
the  peace  which  comes  to  the  passionless — the 
peace  of  surrendered  desire. 


I  held  it  truth- 


That  men  may  rise  upon  the  stepping  stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things.1 " 

TEHNYSON. 

THE   END. 


'<*y>        0?   THE 

WVERSIT7] 


• 


„ 


